Hermione is Back!
by Nargled
Summary: Hermione's parents did not react well to having their memories altered and pulled Hermione from the magical world. Now it wants her back. Can Hermione reconcile her two halves, and her parents with the magical world?
1. Hermione is Back: Prologue

A/N: This is actually my first story. All the others intruded while I was writing it, and I had to get them out of the way. I have also been trying to learn how to write better, reading _The Red Sneaker Writers Book Series_, _Story Trumps Structure_, the snowflake method, and various _Idiot's Guides_. As I have learned, I have had to go back and edit and redo extensively, so this has lengthened in some areas (Show, don't tell!) and shortened in others (No narrative summary!). A few twists and turns were added as it seemed that's what the characters would do at the time. The following chapters are nearly all done, I am just doing the final editing, so this will be complete in a few weeks depending on my work schedule.

As many others have noted, Hermione's parents are curious characters in the books. They are never named, rarely seen, and Hermione barely spends time with them over holiday, which seems odd for an only child off to boarding school at age 11. They are also a HUGE loose end at the end of the books. Are they alive? Did the memory charm work? Was it removed successfully? It was after all Hermione's one and only attempt at the spell, who's to say she did it right? It's really not something you want less than perfect. Assuming it worked and was removed, what would their response be once they were back to normal and Hermione explained why they were where they were?

The _least_ likely response I can think of is that they were perfectly okay with their teenage daughter running around the wilds of England with two boys in a tent when she was not in battle with the most evil wizard in the last fifty to one hundred years and his evil army. This is my attempt to tie up that loose end.

I am embarrassed to say I read several fanfics with their names being Dan and Emma before I caught on. I know, I know, what kind of fan am I? All I can say is that I was distracted by the good stories. Second most prevalent amongst my favorites is Bob and Helen, so I went with those.

As always, I do not own the rights to any of the characters from the Harry Potter series, I still find myself a few billion dollars short. And, paraphrasing the epic fanfic author Robst (a comment from him is one of my bucket list items), my thanks to Ms. Rowling for letting us build sandcastles on her beach.

Enjoy.

Hermione is Back!

Prologue

Hermione looked up anxiously as her mum came back into the guest room and sat down on the bed beside her. The butterflies in the pit in her stomach gained momentum. And claws.

"Your father and I have talked again, and our position is the same. We cannot support you going back to Magical England." Hermione's throat tightened and her eyes stung. "If you do go, we'll likely stay here in Adelaide. We've actually made a life for ourselves here in the past year, and have some close friends." She took Hermione's hand in both of hers. "Given what you've told us, we'd much rather prefer that you'd stay here with us, and go to Uni here. You could get the prerequisites out of the way here just as easily as in England. If you want to go back to England and study at a university there, we would be willing to do that too, it will just take a few months to get things sorted at both ends. But no magic, no contact with any of them, no indication that you're back."

"But mum..."

"No, Hermione. We've talked this to death. I know why you thought you had to send us here. Can you guarantee that things will be better now, that we'd be any safer?"

Hermione had to shake her head. Things had seemed to have been getting better, but too much was in flux for her to be able to promise her parents that they, and she, would be safe. That Riddle was a half blood was now out in the open. The predictable tactic that the purebloods who had so wholeheartedly, whether openly or not, supported him would take would be to blame anyone but the purebloods for the whole mess. Attempts at punishment and retribution would certainly have to follow. Kingsley was the Minister, but only temporarily, and it wasn't a sure thing that he'd be elected in permanently.

She hung her head, defeated. There were no good choices. There weren't even any bad choices, they were all terrible. Magic or her parents, England alone or not. "OK mum. No magic. But I want to go back to England. Magic or not, it's my home." Maybe someday they would change their minds. She'd abandoned them once, she couldn't do it again now that she had just found them.

"For us too, dear. For us, too. Yet here we are half way 'round the world." Hermione cringed and started to cry silently again as her mum left the room. Her mum must still be very angry inside for comments like that to come out. She fell over onto her side, hugged a pillow to herself tightly and sobbed into it.

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Hermione was studying at the kitchen table when she heard the post drop though the flap. She stood, stretching. Today was Government and Politics, and she could use a little break. She was studying for five different A levels: Biology, French, English, Math, and Government and Politics. Her schedule allowed for two years of study then sitting for the exams, then attending university for three or four years. After that, she wasn't quite sure yet.

She pulled the post out of the basket and sorted it. Bill, bill, advertisement, and at last a thick envelope for her. It had taken her several weeks of convincing before her parents would allow her to send a letter to Kingsley regarding what to do about a secondary school transcript. She'd wanted to write Professor McGonnagal as she was likely still the Headmistress, but her parents viewed her as the beginning of all their troubles and wouldn't allow it. But without a transcript of some sort she couldn't get into university, so at last her parents relented. They had limited what she said to the bare minimum, and had made her say she was planning on going back to Australia. Getting the letter to him had presented a problem as she didn't have an owl, and her parents wouldn't let her go to Diagon Alley to use the owl post. Finally her father went to the Leaky Cauldron himself early on a Sunday morning and dropped off the letter and five pounds with Tom. Apparently it worked.

She opened the envelope, and pulled out several sheets of paper, not parchment. The first was a brief letter.

_Dear Ms. Granger,_

_Please find enclosed the standard transcript and certificate of completion for your 'home school' program. This and the applicable required A Levels usually suffice to allow Hogwarts students entry into a muggle University. The post address on the form can be used for any questions on your or the University's part._

_We have had little experience with Universities in Australia, but do not anticipate any difficulties with your enrollment. If you do encounter problems with entry, please do not hesitate to contact us._

_Sincerely Yours, _

_Angela Haynes_

_Department of Educational Records_

_Ministry of Magic_

On the bottom was a separate note:

_Hermione, _

_I__'__m sorry that you and your family won__'__t be returning to Britain. As we talked about before, if there__'__s anything you need, anything at all, be sure to let me know. We owe you a debt that can never be fully repaid. Safe travels, and I hope to hear from you soon. Once you complete University, we would be very interested in discussing having you join us at the Ministry._

_Keep in touch,_

_Kingsley._

The next few sheets were her new transcript, showing 'P' for pass in all the classes in a typical secondary school curriculum, and a statement that she had successfully completed all the requirements. She shook her head sadly. Six years of hard work to get 'Os,' and nothing to show for it but 'passes' in classes she never took. Now she had two years to learn a whole nonmagical education. She resisted the temptation toss the whole packet in the rubbish bin. It was all she could get; it would have to suffice.

The last page was blank except for the letterhead:

_Marauders, Inc._

_Password Protected Parchment and Paper_

_For all your messaging needs_

_Send your owl to 44 Diagon Alley for pricing on this and our other fine office products._

Since when did official Ministry post include adverts? They couldn't be that broke, could they? Suddenly suspicious, she said "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," hoping that she wouldn't need a wand. Words slowly appeared on the page, resolving into brief notes from Ron and Harry.

_Dear Hermione,_

_Kingsley said you were back, but were leaving again. Why can't you stay? I mean you found your parents and undid your memory spell, right? So they're all alright. You're of age, and they're muggles and all, so why aren't you staying? I know you said you weren't ready for a relationship before you left, but now that everything is sorted, I thought you would be my girlfriend._

_Did you find someone else while you were in Australia? Is that it? Once I figure out how to get there I could come talk you around, but Kingsley says we can't visit you yet. Is he a muggle or something? Why can't I come visit?_

_Harry says I should stop pestering you, so I will. I hope you're doing okay, and that you send an owl once you find a place to live._

_Ron._

Hermione stared blankly at Ron's letter for a few minutes. She thought she should feel annoyed, or irritated, or even miss him a bit, but she just didn't have the emotional energy to spare. She was oddly relieved at that. Harry's letter followed.

_Dear Hermione,_

_Sorry about Ron. I'll try to explain things to him in a bit. I can understand why your parents might be a little upset about things right now, but family is important and you need to be with them for a while. But they raised you, and you turned out like, well, you, so I know that they love you and will understand why you had to do what you did._

_Ron and the rest of the Weasleys are recovering slowly, George the slowest. But he has reopened the store and Ron and Ginny are helping out, at least until school starts. Ginny will be going back to school. Ron doesn't want to, and I'm not sure his parents have the energy to make him at this point. Ginny and I aren't going out any more. It's just been too long and too much has changed. We're not the same people we were a year ago, and it was obvious after a few days. We're still friends, and it seems better that way._

_I'm not sure what I'm going to do yet. I never really thought about what I would do after defeating Tom. I never really thought there would be an after, to tell the truth. You know how near a thing it was. I thought I wanted to be an Auror, but I'm kind of worn out. I don't really have the skills to do anything else, but I need a break from chasing evil witches and wizards for a while. I'm not sure I'm going back to school either. Kingsley is talking about some private training so I can qualify for the Auror Academy. I might take him up on that. Though if you were going to be at Hogwarts I would come too. Let me know how it all turns out for you._

_I'm staying at Sirius' place, well I guess it's my place, now. There are some elves without a current home that are helping clean it up. We're in negotiations on wages etc. I don't seem to be a good negotiator, they keep lowering their wages and increasing their work. But it's what they want, and they seem happy, so I don't feel too bad. Anyway, you're keyed into the wards, so you can visit anytime. The floo address is The Marauders Den (don't tell anyone), and you can apparate into the entry hall. Kingsley helped me get a post box as well, as Number 12 is back under a Fidelius and regular post doesn't get delivered here. Oh, yeah. Harry Potter lives at Number 12 Grimmauld Place. That should do it._

_Write me when you get a permanent address. You're my best friend and I miss you. Took me a while to figure that out, but I did. Hope to hear from you soon. _

_Love, Harry_

_Marauder's Inc._

_M Box 713_

_London, England_

_WC1N 3XY_

She wasn't able to finish reading and memorizing his address before her vision blurred from the tears forming. He was nice and supportive and understanding. She wished she could be there to help him, he was all alone again, though he seemed to be doing actually quite well. She wondered when he got so good at charms, like the ones on the paper. Her mind began debating whether writing him a letter via regular post to a regular post box, considering he was raised non magical, would be a violation of her promise. She sighed when she decided it would be, but she found that she missed him terribly.

Hermione heard a car pull up in the drive. She sniffed and wiped her eyes and whispered "Mischief managed." The page turned blank again, even the letterhead fading away. She folded it in half and slipped it into her Government and Politics book near the back. The front door opened and she heard her mum call out "Hermione, I'm home."

"In here, mum."

"How was your day, dear?"

"Ugh. Slow. Government and Politics again. Finally got my transcript today." She waved the packed at her mum.

"Hmm," her mum said, reading it. "Best not let your father read the first page else he's liable to rip the whole thing up. And only passes?"

Hermione shrugged her shoulders. "I'm not too chuffed about it either but it's what we could get. Unless you want to write them back and debate the issue?" Her mum just glared at her. "I didn't think so, so I'll just have to do well on my A levels." She turned back to her studies.

Her mum's face softened. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I know this isn't easy for you either. I'm sure you'll do fine. Any requests for dinner?"

"Anything would be fine, mum. Let me know if you need a hand."

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Hermione made it home from her job as a waitress at the nearest coffee shop. It wasn't much but got her spending money and a way to keep from getting bored since she had completed her A levels and was waiting to hear about her applications.

"Hermione, you're home!"

"What's got you so excited, dad? Hi, mum."

"A letter for you in the post. From Cambridge."

Hermione dropped her bag on the floor and hurriedly hung up her coat and hat. She grabbed the letter from her dad. She squeezed and flexed it experimentally. "It only feels like a few pages. Is that good or bad?"

"Oh, just open it dear," said her mum. "We're sure you got in."

Hermione tore off the end and pulled the letter out. She read the first few lines, and a wide smile appeared on her face. "I'm in! Poly Sci at King's College!"

Her parents grabbed her up in a big hug. "That's wonderful, dear," said her mum as her dad said "Good job, Hermione!" He continued, "We should go out to celebrate. What would you like?"

"Oh, Indian. Can we go to Zari?"

"Zari it is. Get your coat."

Hermione's smile continued as she rode in the car. Finally, she was getting somewhere.


	2. Chapter 1: The Ministry

A/N: As always, I do not own the rights to any of the Harry Potter characters, I am still a few billion dollars short of being able to buy them (literally, the franchise is worth 15 billion now). To paraphrase robst, my thanks to Ms. Rowling for still letting us build sandcastles on her beach.

Chapter 1

The Ministry

Hermione's watch gave a soft single chime. She glanced down and sighed. Time to go. She put her texts on Contractual Law and Intensive French in her bag and stood from the bench. She glanced once more at the river and smiled. Sometimes she couldn't get over the fact that she got to sit by the River Isis to study. The history tied to the river, and Oxford itself, and here she was, taking part in it, sharing it, hopefully to someday add to it. She gave a short sigh of contentment before turning for the short walk back to the Oxford Tube stop.

Her Political Science degree from Cambridge let her know what she wanted to do; human rights work, but not how to do it. A second degree in Law at Oxford could get her into jobs where she could effectively change things, either at the one-person-at-a-time level or at the governmental level. It was more study, but she loved to learn and the scholarships helped. 

She could see the bus just down the road, so didn't sit and start to read again. There were fewer people here during the Long Vacation Term, which she didn't mind at all. She nodded politely to the few people that she knew at the stop, but didn't chat. It was Friday, she was tired, and they knew her as someone that didn't talk much out of lecture which suited her fine. The bus arrived and the doors hissed open. She found a seat near the front behind the driver away from the other passengers and once again pulled out her text to read. She was fully engrossed before the bus even pulled away.

Once the bus was into London proper and began to stop and go with the traffic, Hermione put her book away. She liked to watch all the buildings, traffic, and people. There were lots of tourists this time of year. They finally reached London Victoria Station. Stepping off the bus, she headed inside to her favorite pasty shop before going to her platform. She found a bench by herself and ate her pasty. She looked at her watch and saw that she had time to read some more before her train came. With the wait and the train ride, she'd have time to finish her reading for the weekend.

A nice twenty minute walk after leaving the train, Hermione was at her parents' home. The cars in the drive showed that they were both home. She keyed herself in and put her bag and jacket on the rack in the entry.

"Hello?" she called. 

"Welcome home, dear," her mum said from the kitchen. "How was your week?" 

"Good, mum. It's nice to be home, though. Where's dad?" Hermione gave her mum a quick hug. 

"He's out back, minding the flower bed."

Hermione went to the french doors and waved at her father out in the garden. He waved back and started gathering his tools to come in.

"When's dinner, mum?" 

"About half an hour. Go relax, I'll call you when it's ready."

Hermione went in to the living room. She stood in front of the bookshelves for a minute, looking for something light to read before dinner. She smiled when she saw the fourth in the Hitchhiker's Trilogy and pulled it off the shelf. She plunked herself down in the soft leather reading chair in front of the fire place and curled her legs up under her. Before she could escape into her book, however, her eyes passed over the hearth, and the kindling can on the end. Off to the edge, shorter than the other sticks, her wand still poked up, its carved handle contrasting to the rough-cut edges of the rest. The last two spells it had ever cast were the sticking and notice-me-not charms that kept it hidden and safe in the can. Hermione frowned slightly, and turned in her chair a bit before opening her book to read. Before she knew it her mother was calling her for dinner. 

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"Night mum, night dad," Hermione said from the hallway. 

"Night dear," said both of her parents from the living room. "Any plans for the weekend?" asked her father. 

"Just an essay to finish up for next week." 

"Alright, then, we'll see you in the morning." 

"Alright." Before heading up to bed, her eyes found again her wand poking out of the kindling. She frowned again and went up the stairs to get ready for bed.

"We should plan to do something during her break," her mother said. 

"We should. We'll chat with her tomorrow and see what she wants to do. She's been working so hard and doing so well at school, a little time off would be good."

Hermione smiled as her parents continued to talk. She wouldn't mind a short trip away. The beach would be nice, if it was still warm. She was very happy that her parents were pleased with her schooling. It wasn't cheap, or easy, but she truly was doing well, and should have her Law degree in another two years. She came home weekends she wasn't working in the library, and for breaks. She and her parents were getting along better than they had for years, and she enjoyed their company immensely. Things finally seemed to be going well.

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Saturday morning after breakfast Hermione was working on her Contract Law essay at the kitchen table when the phone rang.

"I'll get it," said her mum said from the sitting room.

"Hello, Granger residence." 

"No, this is her mother." 

"You're not serious." Hermione set her pen down to listen more closely.

"You are serious. Right. Sorry. Today? Of course. Yes, she's right here, just a moment." 

"Hermione?" her mum called.

"Yes?" Hermione asked, heading for the sitting room

"It's for you." Her mum had a very odd look on her face.

"Who is it?"

"Just take the call, I have to go find your father. I wonder what one wears?"

This was all very mysterious. But if her mum was worried about what to wear, it couldn't be all that bad. "Hello?"

"Yes, this is she."

"You're joking."

"Right, you're not joking."

"Today?" 

"Right, two o'clock."

"Can my parents come?" 

"Well, that's good then."

"How -"

"What -"

"No, that's perfectly convenient."

"Well, right then, we'll be ready." 

"OK then, see you at two."

"Dear?" Her mum had found her father, and they were standing in front of her with concerned looks on their faces. Hermione didn't hear her.

"Dear?" her mother repeated, louder.

"Huh?"

"Well, what was that all about?" her mother asked, sitting on the sofa next to Hermione. 

"What?"

"What was that all about?" She repeated, gently taking the now beeping phone and placing it back in its cradle. 

"Right. That was a Mr. Emerson. He said he's the Social Secretary for the Prime Minister of all things." 

"What?" Mr. Granger sat on the sofa next to his wife.

"I got that part," said her mum, "but why's he calling?"

"Well, he would like us to be ready at two o'clock. A car will come around and pick us up and take us to the Prime Minister's office."

"What?" said Mr. Granger again. "Whatever for?"

"It seems that the Prime Minister wants to meet with me." Her parents just sat staring at her. 

"Why would the Prime Minister want to meet with you?" asked her mum. 

Hermione frowned, "I have no idea at all why anyone in the government much less the Prime Minister would want to talk with me. Is this some sort of joke? Is someone going to rob us or our house while we're away?"

"That seems rather farfetched," her father said.

"No more farfetched than the Prime Minister wanting to talk with me!" said Hermione. 

"I... well, you got me there."

"What about asking Hilary down the block?" asked her mother. "She works for the Sussex Police at the Crawley Station."

"Isn't she just a clerk? How is she going to know what the Prime Minister's Social Secretary is up to?" asked her father.

"Yes, but maybe she knows what the ID badges should look like or something." 

"Do we really want to bother her with something like this?" asked her father.

Hermione frowned and thought. "Either it's legitimate, and we really should be ready to go, or it's not and we really shouldn't go at all. We just have no way of knowing. We need someone else to help sort it out."

"I suppose Hilary is what we have to work with on such short notice," said her father.

Mrs. Granger stood. "I'll give her a call, you two go start getting ready. Hermione, something formal, not fancy, business if you have something like that here. Dear, your blue or grey suit would be fine."

"Should-" started her father.

"Yes dear, you need a tie."

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Hermione was in her dressing gown with her hair up in a towel, looking at the limited selection of business wear she had here at her parent's house. Navy skirt and jacket, cream blouse it is, she thought. Everything else would look better at church or a wedding. She hoped it still fit. Her mother came in to her room, similarly garbed.

"What do you think, mum? It's what I have."

"That'll do fine. I called Hilary. She thought it all rather dodgy as well. She called a constable friend of hers, who thought so too. They'll be by before two and park out front and check ID if anyone does actually come to get us."

"That makes me feel better. You do believe me, mum, that I have no idea what's going on any more than you?"

"Yes dear, we do. It's all very strange, isn't it? We've been wracking our brains, too, and we can't come up with anything at all. Nothing odd happening at school?"

"Not at all. Other than some debates that get a little loud during Tuts or Moots, everything at school has been quite normal. And I don't know of anyone special coming to speak or anything."

"Well, we should know in an hour or so, then."

Hermione was putting in her earrings when Hillary rang the front bell at 1:45. Mrs. Granger welcomed her in. "Thanks for doing this, Hillary, we just didn't know what else to do."

"No worries, Mrs. Granger. PC Parks called, she should be here any minute. She didn't know of any scams like this, but thought it suspicious enough to stop over." 

"Can I get you anything?"

"No, thanks, I'm fine. And you must be Hermione," she said as Hermione came down the stairs to the entryway.

"Yes, nice to meet you," said Hermione, shaking her hand.

Mr. Granger came down the stairs and shook her hand as well. "Thanks for doing this Hilary. Rather odd, all this isn't it?"

"Rather. I've not met anyone from the Prime Minister's office before. This'll be interesting regardless."

A Sussex Police car pulled up and parked directly across the street. A fit appearing constable got out and came across. Hillary led the Grangers out onto the porch to meet her, and did the introductions.

"Thanks for coming, Constable Parks," said Mr. Granger. "We just didn't know what to do about all this."

"No problems," she said. "If someone does show, I can help say hello. If not, I brought the paperwork to have the phone company track the caller, if you want."

"I don't know if we need to do that…" started Mrs. Granger, as a shiny black limousine pulled up in front. Two men in dark suits got out of the front, the driver scanning the street and the group on the porch, the other opening the back door for a thin man in a grey suit. They headed up the walk towards the house, while PC Parks stepped down off the porch to meet them. A quiet conversation ensued, during which the man in the grey suit looked surprised then amused. ID badges were shown back and forth, apparently to everyone's satisfaction, and PC Parks returned to the porch, smiling.

"Well, Mr. and Mrs. Granger, it all appears legitimate. The man in the grey suit is indeed Mr. Emerson, and he and the guard carry official Ministry ID. Why they are here, they didn't say, but it can't be anything bad, otherwise they wouldn't have sent a limo or Mr. Emerson. He promised to have you home after dinner. Oh, and Hillary, we have been, er, _invited_ to not mention this to anybody."

"Huh," Hillary said. "At least none of the neighbors seem to be out and about. Thanks for coming, Beth."

"Yes, Constable Parks, thanks for coming," said Mrs. Granger. "We all appreciate it. I feel safer anyway, if not any less confused."

"No worries," PC Parks said, smiling again. "It was interesting, and the guard is cute. I got his name, I'll have to see if I can track him down. And I may call in the number plate, just to see who comes and tells me I shouldn't have. I'll sit in the car for a bit, till you're off."

Hillary left with PC Parks, Hillary to head home, the constable to her car, passing Mr. Emerson as he came up to the porch. The guard went back to stand by the limo.

"Dr. Granger, Dr. Granger, Miss Granger," he said, smiling and shaking their hands in turn. "I am, as you appear to know, Mr. Emerson, from the Prime Minister's office. I am very sorry to have caused you concern. Usually I'm the one running around reassuring everyone, though I can see how you might be worried. I assure you, no one is in any sort of difficulty, in fact I'm here to ask you for help."

"Um," started Mr. Granger.

"Please," said Mr. Emerson, "I'll explain on the way. The car is much more comfortable and private than out here, and we do have a bit of a schedule to keep."

Hermione looked at her parents. "Come on, let's go. Constable Parks said it's OK, and I've never met anyone at the Ministry before." Hermione started thinking about what she knew about the Prime Minister and questions to ask while she was there. This was exciting!

As they headed for the car, Hermione saw the driver pressing on his earpiece. He smiled and talked quietly to the guard on the passenger side, who started laughing quietly. He was still chuckling as he held the door for the group.

"David?" asked Mr. Emerson as the Grangers got in the limo and sat in the back seat. Hermione, the last to get in and sitting nearest the door, was able to hear the quiet reply.

"It seems Constable Parks called in our plates and my ID. I'll have a quick word with her before we go."

"Well. Make sure it _is_ quick. We've a busy afternoon ahead."

"Yes, sir," said David, as Mr. Emerson climbed in as well, sitting in the seat facing back towards the Grangers.

Hermione leaned forward a bit to look out the window past her parents. David was leaning down talking with PC Parks through the window of her car. She had a grin on her face as she handed him a card. He walked back to the car, shaking his head. She heard the car door open and shut in the front. Mr. Emerson pressed a button on his arm rest. "If we're ready, then."

"Yes, sir," came a voice in reply, and the car pulled smoothly away from the curb. Hermione looked around the limo with interest. This was brilliant!

Mr. Emerson addressed the Grangers again. "Well, your Constable Parks is a thorough lady." He held up his hands as the Grangers were about to come to her defense. "That was a compliment, I admire her competence." He smiled, "And I believe David can fend her off if needed. I must apologize again for your anxiety. I am used to dealing with people who are, er, used to dealing with me as it were."

He reached down and retrieved his briefcase. Setting it on his lap, he opened it and pulled out a file. "So, to business."

The limo had left the city streets and merged onto M23 into London. "Miss Granger, you graduated with Honours in Political Science and French at Cambridge, correct?

"Yes."

"And you are in the BA in Law with Senior Status at Oxford, correct?"

"Yes -"

"And you have somehow managed to get them to approve a year away to get the equivalent of the four year Law with Law Studies in Europe program?"

"Well, only if I can get accepted to intern at the European Court of Human Rights for part of it, but it's not likely at all that I will get a spot -"

"And you are in the top ten of your class?"

"I don't know about that -"

Mr. and Mrs. Granger were looking back and forth at them like they were at a tennis match. Both had smiles on their faces at the top ten comment.

"I would assume you're aware that the Prime Minister is an alumnus of Oxford?" Mr. Emerson continued.

"Yes, I knew that," Hermione said, trying to keep up with the questions.

"Were you also aware that his wife was as well?"

Hermione nodded again. "Yes, she's on the wall just outside our library entrance -"

"Correct, she's an alumnus of your own St. Catherine's. More importantly, she's a close personal friend of Ms. Williams, the current Master."

"Ah."

"Ah, indeed. Now things should be a bit clearer. Master Williams has mentioned your name, in passing as it were, to the Prime Minister and his wife at a recent dinner. That, in of itself, would not usually prompt a call from me. However, the Prime Minister was more recently in France, and happened to meet with the British representative to the European Court of Human Rights. Among many other topics of conversation was your application for your away year. As you so correctly pointed out, it is unlikely for _any _student to get such a position, as it hasn't been done before. But apparently several of the right people were impressed with your application, essay, and proposal, and are interested in using you as a test case to add the site to the Oxford curriculum. Suffice it to say, and completely unofficially, I would not be surprised if you get a rather nice letter from them sometime near the end of term."

"Brilliant!" said Hermione at the same time that her parents both said "That's wonderful!"

Hermione thought for a moment. "That's all very wonderful, but it still doesn't explain all this," she said, gesturing to Mr. Emerson and the limo. They had crossed the M25 and the M23 had become the A23, but traffic was still relatively light.

"Correct again," said Mr. Emerson. "However, when an Oxford student is mentioned twice to the Prime Minister unsolicited, it gets a few small wheels turning. Phone calls are made, backgrounds are checked, which is really just code for more phone calls and records being sent, and presto, now you have a file. Your file is good enough to get me involved, and here we are. In short, you're about to have a very preliminary recruitment interview."

For anyone else, this would be cause for celebration, but apparently not for the Grangers. At the mention of 'background check' the smiles on Mr. and Mrs. Grangers' faces became slightly smaller and fixed. The certificate and transcript from Shacklebolt showing completion of her 'home school program," and two and a half years of actual home study had allowed her to grind out five 'A' A levels. Her outstanding A level scores and her interview had gotten her into Cambridge. Her performance there, on the LNAT, and another good interview had gotten her in to Oxford Law. But it was doubtful that her documents would hold up under the scrutiny of a thorough background check that went back far enough or was detailed enough.

Hermione's smile completely disappeared and she fell back in her seat. For some reason she had never thought this completely through before. Her career opportunities could be severely limited. Any job with the government or even a large firm would require answers that she just couldn't give. Faking it would be dangerous, and grounds for immediate dismissal if she were ever found out.

Mr. Emerson sensed the drop in temperature in the car. He looked up from the file in his hands back and forth from Hermione to her parents. By this time Hermione was looking panicked and her parents' smiles had shifted to scowls.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Don't worry! I've done it again, haven't I? The Prime Minister and I, and only the two of us, are aware of the Statute of Secrecy and the magical world. We would have to be, wouldn't we? Your marks at Hogwarts were exemplary, and your involvement in the, uh, internal difficulties, will not negatively affect your prospects."

This did not seem to reassure the Grangers in the slightest. Hermione flinched. '_This was not going to go well,__'_ she thought to herself. Mrs. Granger had paled to white, and Mr. Granger was turning redder by the moment, his hands clenched into fists on his knees. He was visibly trying to control himself.

"You're not one of…..them.. are you?" he growled out.

This brought Mr. Emerson up short. "One of 'them'?" he repeated slowly.

"Someone with magic," said Mr. Granger.

Mr. Emerson sat back, closing his briefcase. "Oh, my. This is going from bad to worse, isn't it?" He gathered his thoughts. "No, I am not magical, nor is anyone on the staff. The only one of 'them' as it were is in fact your daughter sitting next to you."

"Hermione may have been born magical, but she does not carry a wand or use magic in any way, she's given it up. If you are aware of them, then hopefully you have rounded all those dangerous lunatics up and tossed away the keys. I can't believe the government allows them to run around the countryside throwing deadly spells at people for fun. Hermione was almost killed who knows how many times. Should put them in jail and let them rot, the lot of them. 'Internal difficulties' my arse."

Mr. Emerson looked at each of the other Grangers in turn. Mr. Granger was obviously very upset. Mr. Emerson felt a flash of worry that David was up front and not in the back to provide protection. Mrs. Granger sat with her arms across her chest, lips pressed together in a thin line, the color only minimally returning to her cheeks, either upset at Mr. Emerson, her husband, or just in general. Hermione had her hands clasped together between her knees, head down. She looked up slightly at Mr. Emerson and shook her head minutely. He couldn't decide if she were quietly letting him know she disagreed with her father, was embarrassed by her father, or warning him not to pursue the conversation.

Regardless, he decided that he wasn't going to be able to sort this out in the time remaining for their journey. They had hit the edges of the city proper, and traffic was starting to thicken, but they would be at the Minister's office soon. He needed to temporize a bit.

"I see. Well, it's good that you've made your position clear. As I said, Miss Granger's magical background will not be detrimental to her in any way. We are far more interested in her work at University so far and her aspirations to work for human rights."

This brought the tension levels in the car down substantially. Mrs. Granger relaxed her arms and her expression. Mr. Granger relaxed as well, unclenching his fists and resting his now open hands on his legs. "Very good, then. I apologize if I seemed unnecessarily angry. But if you knew what Hermione and we have been through, you would understand."

Hermione looked up at Mr. Emerson again, and his eyes met hers. She suddenly knew, for a fact, that he _did_ know exactly what she and her family had been through. How could he not, being in the position that he was in? And she also knew that while her magic might not be a hindrance in all this, whatever it was, it certainly wasn't irrelevant. Her optimism about the day dropped further.

The car was taking the turns to get to the Vauxhall Bridge, to then go by the Riverside and Victoria gardens on the way to 10 Downing Street. Mr. Emerson had shifted the conversation to the much safer topic of Hermione's studies, then to the Grangers' jobs. Hermione sat quietly, watching the river out the window without really seeing it. Not too far upstream was her life at Oxford, but it suddenly seemed a world away.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

The car pulled up to the barricade on Downing Street. Armed guards stood on both sides of the street, and one approached the driver's window. They conversed for a moment, then the guard approached the rear of the car. The window lowered and the guard scanned the interior. "Afternoon, Mr. Emerson," he said.

"Good afternoon, Reg. Hermione Granger and family to see the Minister."

"Right, on you go, then."

The barricade lifted and the car pulled up in front of Number 10. David opened the door and they all got out. Mr. Emerson led the way up the one step to the door as it opened from the inside, and they all went in to the black and white tiled entryway, David bringing up the rear.

"Welcome to 10 Downing Street and the Prime Minister's offices and residence," said Mr. Emerson. "We'll be meeting in his personal office today, follow me please." David stayed in the entry hall, chatting with the guard who closed the door behind them. Mr. Emerson led the way through the buildings to the receptionist's room for the Prime Minister.

"Miss Baker," he said, greeting the receptionist. "Here are the Grangers, Bob and Helen, and their daughter Hermione." Turning to the Grangers, he said "Please have a seat here, I'll see if he's ready for us. Miss Baker can get you anything you need," and he disappeared through an oak paneled door.

The Grangers sat on the antique sofa, appreciating the art on the walls and the architecture of the room itself. They declined Miss Baker's offer for tea. After a few minutes, Miss Baker's phone rang quietly. Answering it, she quickly smiled at the Grangers.

"The Prime Minister is ready for you," she said as the door was opened by a slightly harried looking Mr. Emerson.

"Right this way," he said. As they headed in through the door, Mr. Emerson gave Miss Baker a message. "We may need Major Thomas sooner than expected, could you call him and have him waiting please? And our 4:30 may need to have their appointment time adjusted as well. Can you make sure he can be reached immediately between now and then?" The rest was cut off as he closed the door behind them.

The Grangers went into the Prime Minister's office, passing a painting of fields and haystacks and a fireplace before coming to some comfortable chairs arranged facing a large mahogany desk. The Prime Minister was coming around the side to greet them. "Dr. Granger, Dr. Granger, and of course Hermione, thank you for coming today," he said, shaking their hands. "Please, have a seat. Can Miss Baker get you anything?" They all demurred and sat down.

The Prime Minister continued, addressing Hermione directly. "Well, I'll get to the point. We're interested in recruiting you for a job in the Ministry. Mr. Emerson has told you how you came to our attention. We occasionally chat with Masters and Professors at Oxford and other schools just to see what talent is on the horizon as it were. But what really caught our attention was your work on _Smythe vs The Bank of London_."

"You worked on a case, dear?" her mother asked.

"Um, no mum, it was just homework for one of the group tutoring sessions." She looked at the Prime Minister, and he gestured for her to continue. "Several years ago, a Mr. Smythe sued the Bank of London over a fine for insufficient funds. He deposited his biweekly salary, paid to him by cheque from his employer from an account at another large bank, into his account. He then went shopping at the grocers, also paying by cheque. The cheque from the grocers was processed the next day, but the deposit he had made was held for three days before it was credited to his account, so he did not yet have sufficient funds to cover his purchases. He was charged an overdraft fee from the bank, as well as a fine from the grocers. He sued because he felt his receipts proved he had monies in his account, and that the bank holding his cheque from another large bank to make sure it 'cleared' while processing his cheque from the grocers immediately wasn't fair, benefitting all three businesses at the expense of him the customer. He had gone to the bank to complain, but was unsuccessful, as the bank's process was in fact legal at the time. He then went to small claims court and sued under 'faulty services,' as he maintained that it was the bank's fault the cheque bounced, not his. For some reason, the bank said later that the paperwork got lost in their legal department, they never showed at the hearing. Since they weren't there to defend themselves, the judge ruled summarily in Mr. Smythe's favor, and a letter was sent to the bank to refund Mr. Smythe his fines and charges."

She continued. "If the bank had just paid Mr. Smythe, it may have just ended there, lost in the archives of the courthouse, but the bank appealed the decision, as they asserted they had the law on their side. Really, they were afraid this would set precedent, and the process of holding deposits generated a steady stream of interest, not to mention the revenue from the overdraft charges. By now they had a substantial legal team involved, and were successful on appeal. They even asked Mr. Smythe to pay their legal expenses, but the judge shot that down, saying it was their fault since they didn't show at the first hearing, and Mr. Smythe was in no way liable for their incompetence. He just owed them the overdraft fee."

Mr. Granger looked confused. "That's all well and good, but how does that assignment get us here today?"

The Prime Minister laughed. "It doesn't. All that was public record, and the case was assigned to demonstrate some personal banking law, as well as the small claims court process, as well as methods of appeal. All the other tutor groups found the same information, but it's what Hermione and her group did in addition that brings her here. Hermione tracked down the regulations that allowed the bank to do all that, and found out who sponsored them originally in Parliament. She then called The Honourable Member Peterson for his take on the matter. Not satisfied with that, she assigned one member of her group to track down what lobbying groups supported Mr. Peterson in the preceding few years, and the other to contact a political advocacy group for citizens' rights for their input. That attention to detail and thoroughness is what prompted Master Williams to mention her name to me."

Mr. and Mrs. Granger looked at Hermione proudly. "That's our girl," said Mr. Granger.

The Prime Minister laughed again and continued. "But what really brought you here is the fact that the advocacy group has since contacted Mr. Smythe to take up his cause. They are pestering Mr. Peterson to no end, and publicizing the regulation and his ties to big banking, and he is starting to sweat the next election. He was in here not too long ago, complaining about the whole mess. There's even legislation being drafted to even the playing field for the average banking customer, and if it comes up soon given the relative publicity, it may even pass. Not bad for a law student."

Hermione had shrunk lower and lower in her chair with each revelation of what repercussions her efforts had caused. The Prime Minister saw this. "Cheer up, Hermione. All this is good. Could you not see yourself drafting such legislature in a few short years?"

"Well, yes, actually, something just like that. I just didn't think my homework would cause so much trouble."

"It's not trouble," smiled the Prime Minister. "It's how things work, and in this case, work for the better. The banks have an unfair advantage, and certainly aren't hurting financially, and still won't be if this small effort succeeds, despite all their wailing. You should be proud."

Hermione sat up straighter, reassured. "Right then. That's all well and good, but still doesn't explain why I'm here. You mentioned some sort of job…?"

The Prime Minister's smile faded a bit. "Ah, yes. After reviewing your file, I had thought that you would be perfect for this job, given your degree from Cambridge, your current work at Oxford, your obvious intelligence, and your continued efforts for the common man as it were. We were hoping to recruit you to one our embassy staffs, first as an aide and then hopefully Assistant Ambassador."

Hermione was hit by a swirl of competing emotions. Initial elation over the magnitude of the opportunity and chances this would open up, pride over her accomplishment, excitement over doing something good and traveling the world, confusion still over why they would be recruiting a law student, and then a budding dread over why she might be the particular person they needed.

"That's wonderful, Hermione!" said her mother, smiling at her proudly. "All your efforts are paying off!"

Hermione smiled back, but was watching her father. Her sense of dread grew. He was still glowering at the Prime Minister, who was watching him back warily.

"That's a remarkable offer, indeed. But why Hermione? What does a first year law student have over all the other government hacks you already have in your employ?"

"It's the, ah, rather unique nature of the post we have in mind." He took a deep breath and gathered himself up a bit. "It's the embassy to Magical Britain." To Hermione he seemed to flinch without actually moving.

Mr. Granger launched out of his seat. "That's it then. Helen, Hermione, we're leaving. Mr. Prime Minister, thank you for the kind offer, but there's no way in Hell we or Hermione will be exposed to them ever again. If you would be so good as to call for your driver, we'll be off."

Everyone started talking at once. The Prime Minister was trying to get Mr. Granger to calm down and listen to his proposal. Mr. Granger was having nothing to do with it and getting angrier by the minute. Mrs. Granger was alternating between getting Mr. Granger to calm down and berating the Prime Minister herself. Hermione just shrunk back down in her chair as the volume rose and rose in the room. A motion out of the corner of her eye caught her attention. The door had quietly opened and closed as a burly man in combat fatigues let himself in to stand at rest. She sat up, panicking that her parents were about to end up arrested by the military for assaulting a government official, but the man, Major Thomas perhaps, smiled at her and waved her back into her seat. She smiled tentatively to him in return and sat back, a bit, into her chair. Apparently he was there 'just in case.' As she did so, she thought that something flickered in the painting on the wall by the door. She really really hoped that she just imagined it, or things could go truly spare quickly.

As was its nature in times of crisis, Hermione's brain went into overdrive. The world around her became muffled and seemed to move in slow motion. Hermione found herself thinking of the changes in her life. Her Hogwarts letter was the first pivotal point. A change from the torment of her primary school to the wonder of magic. That certainly didn't turn out well. Then the war against Tom, all that stress and horror and she couldn't truly say that she won anything. The last several years of study and being with her parents were wonderful. She had learned how to moderate her pushiness and become secure in her intellect, and had found a wide group of friends, with similar drive and goals. A few years out of her whole life where she felt like things were going well, the potential of a career, and a life, of her own.

She looked up at her parents arguing with the Prime Minister. There was still the elephant in the room, as it always had been. Hermione was a witch. Magic couldn't be taken out of her any more than her drive to learn. She and her parents were blissfully ignoring that fact, but it was still true. She had despaired over her parents not ever accepting all of her, being able to reconcile all of her into one person. She loved her parents, but a small part of her knew that their current relationship, as great as it was, was in a small part based on her guilt and shame from modifying their memories to keep them safe, her desire to make up for going off to school at eleven, learning magic they couldn't see. And they were still afraid and angry about it all, about things they didn't understand, and wouldn't and couldn't now learn about. Was there a way to bring all this together, including her parents, ever? Would she someday be forty-five and still living at home out of guilt? When would it be time for all of Hermione? Could this job be a bridge to the rest of her, her world? This felt like one of those pivotal moments. In an instant, it was decided. Now was the time, she would try to get it all. The world returned at full speed and volume.

"Mum! Dad!" she yelled, jumping up out of her chair. "That's enough! He's the Prime Minister for goodness sake!"

Everyone stopped in mid word and looked at her. Hermione quailed briefly, but only briefly. Now was the time. "Please, sit down. I would like to hear what he has to say. There's no need for all the anger and noise."

Mr. Granger visibly tried to calm himself. "There's no need to stay and listen either, you're not working for them."

Hermione steeled herself. This was it. Now was the time. "I might, if it's the right job for me."

Mr. Granger's face paled, then flushed redder than it had been before. "You would choose them over your family?"

Hermione stood her ground. "Why is it either/or? Why couldn't I take this job and still be your daughter? Whether I perform magic or not, I am Magical. We've deliberately ignored that little fact for the past several years, but it's still true."

"After what they did to you, you would go back there?" he asked, incredulously.

"I'm not being hired to 'go back there' or to work 'for them.' I would be working for the British NON-magical government in an Embassy."

Mrs. Granger was looking thoughtfully at her daughter. She put her hand on her husband's arm. "Dear, it won't hurt anyone to listen."

"We listened to that teacher that came to the house, and look what happened after that!"

"Dad! Please!"

"Alright, alright." Mr. Granger sat back down in the chair. "We'll listen, then we're going."

Hermione took a breath of relief. She looked at the Prime Minister. "You'll have to excuse my parents. They still don't know much about the magical world, and it… worries them."

Mr. Granger was not to be placated. "Of course it worries us, you were nearly killed! More than once!"

"Mr. Granger, if I may," said the Prime Minister. Mr. Granger settled down again. "You were driven here with an armed guard, in a bullet proof and bomb resistant vehicle, and passed through a security gate manned by military and antiterrorist personnel. All because a tiny fraction of the Irish people have taken up arms against Britain and have a propensity for setting off explosives. Did you feel threatened or unsafe on your trip here? Or in your daily life?"

"Well, no -"

"Did you even think twice about the security arrangements once you were satisfied that this wasn't some joke?"

"Well, not really -"

"My maternal grandmother was Irish, do you feel the need to protect your family from me?"

"Of course not -"

"Well then, let me complete my analogy. Since your daughter's adventures Magical Britain has come more fully integrated under the Queen's rule. The terrorist trials were over years ago, law and order has long been fully reestablished, and statistically life in 'the magical world' is safer than out. The tiny percentage who raised, er, wands against the government are most decidedly no longer an issue. Of the remaining ninety plus percent, some were victims like yourselves but most were blessedly unscathed and frankly uninvolved one way or the other. The big difference is that they have been aware of all these changes and have had time to recover, while you apparently have not. You still view Magical Britain as it was in the brief time of unrest, but that world has not existed in years, in large part due to your daughter and those same adventures. I think perhaps it's time you listened and learned a little, and you might be pleasantly surprised. After our recruitment sessions, you can discuss this as a family and make an informed decision."

Mr. Granger sat, clenching and unclenching his fists in his lap. This was something he had hoped would never happen, never be discussed again. His family was safe. Hermione was going to Oxford, she came home on the weekends. They could visit her there. He could actually understand what she was learning about. She was doing well, would have a good career, and no one was trying to kill her, or threatening to kill them. Why would anyone want to go back to the way it was before?

He looked over to Hermione. Her expression was neutral, not angry, but … resolute. He was struck suddenly by the fact of how grown up she was. She was in fact a full adult, and could do this, or anything else, without him, but had invited him to be involved. His gaze switched to his wife. Her face was also fairly neutral, but one corner of her mouth briefly twitched up in a small smile. What could she possibly be happy about? He had a small twinge of that feeling 'he was missing something obvious again' that only she could cause. At least she wasn't mad at him as well. He relaxed a bit more. He quirked one eyebrow up in a question. She smiled a bit more and nodded fractionally. He took a big breath and blew it out.

"Alright, I'll listen." Helen smiled more broadly and reached out to squeeze his hand. He still didn't understand how she could be happy about all this. They would have to talk later. His thoughts were interrupted by a hug from Hermione, she had left her chair to come up behind him.

"Thanks, dad," she said and kissed him on the cheek. They would all have to talk later, but things didn't seem as bad as they did a few minutes ago, somehow. Didn't make things anywhere close to good, however.

"If things are all so peachy, why do you need Hermione?"

At this the Prime Minister gave a relieved laugh. "Things there are just as good as they are here, which means you have to deal with the same sloth, greed, avarice, corruption and political messiness as we do. The game is stacked in favor of the rich and powerful, and against the average person there just as here. Hermione is brilliant, respected, and seems to be instinctually devoted to fighting the tide as it were. She is also fully aware of the magical world and was a very capable witch. We all feel she is a perfect fit, and will do well and enjoy it. She is not the only choice, but she is our first choice as she has basically trained herself for the job. If she doesn't want this particular job, there are many others she'd be well qualified for in government, and in the private sector. It's obvious that she'll be heavily recruited, we just wanted to put our offer in first."

Hermione was blushing a little from all the praise from the Prime Minister. "What would this entail, exactly?" she asked, wanting to get things moving and to take advantage of the relative peace.

"Currently, we're treating Magical Britain as if it was it's own separate country, but one with definite strong ties to our world. Eventually we want to see the two merge, but in the interim we just need to open firm and steady relations. We need official channels built, ones that will become ingrained into their, and our, political process. So we opted to start with an official Embassy. Magical folk from around the world will use it as a point of communication from their country to ours, but it will also serve as the path between the two Britains. Due to her history and current training, Hermione is ideally suited to act as a liaison between the two worlds."

Mr. Granger was not convinced. "You said there were other jobs she was being considered for?"

"True. Her interests and talents would be well suited for Economic Development or Social Welfare work, or in Embassies or outreach efforts to struggling third world countries, but this would ignore her magical skills and heritage."

Hermione spoke up before her father could react again. "So what happens next?"

The Prime Minister looked relieved at her question. "We had scheduled three sessions. This one did not go quite as planned, but well enough it seems. The second is the rest of this afternoon with people from the Ministry of Magic, including dinner, after which you'll be taken home. The third is on Saturday in two weeks. I'll be there, as will some other non-magical dignitaries, and we were hoping you all could join us again. As it is technically a magical event, I'll let your next presenter go over the details with you. Are there any other questions for me before you move on?"

The Grangers looked at each other. Helen looked calm. Robert still looked upset, but better than before. Hermione had a hesitant smile on her face. "No dad, I'm good. Are you ready to meet some other magical people?"

"Not really. You trust these people?" This was addressed to the Prime Minister again.

"Yes Mr. Granger, thoroughly and completely, which is more than I can say for much of my own government. Let me introduce you to Major Thomas," he said, gesturing to the quiet man still standing by the door. "He's second in command of the Embassy's security, and will be escorting you for the rest of the day. You will find him a helpful guide and a wealth of information."

Major Thomas nodded his head to each of them in turn. "Dr. Granger, Dr. Granger, Ms. Granger." Mr. Granger shook his hand, with a slight hesitation. "Sir?" asked Major Thomas.

"So, are you… magical, then?" asked Mr. Granger.

"Dad! Does it really matter?" chided Hermione.

"That's alright, Miss Granger," Major Thomas said, smiling, "I completely understand." He leaned in to Mr. Granger and asked quietly "Can't you tell?" Mr. Granger had the grace to appear a little embarrassed. "Just teasing, Mr. Granger. No, I am not a wizard. Didn't know anything about magic until 5 years ago." He looked over to the Prime Minister. "Sir?"

"Ah, yes. Let me check with Miss Baker." He picked up the phone on his desk. "Miss Baker, was the 4:30 able to come earlier? Excellent, can you let him know we are ready for him now? Thanks." He nodded to Major Thomas.

Major Thomas addressed the Grangers again. "If we could clear the entry way, please," he said and winked at Hermione, "our host will be here momentarily."

Hermione looked about and saw a familiar bowl on the mantel of the fire place. "Mum, dad, are you ready?" They looked at her in confusion. "We're about to fall down the rabbit hole." Understanding dawned on their faces, with some trepidation on her father's, when the fireplace stretched upwards and a green flame roared into life. Mrs. Granger let out a little 'eek' as a tall man dressed in a dark pinstripe suit, with black skin and a shaved head appeared in the flames and stepped out into the room. "Hermione! It's good to see you again."

Mr. and Mrs. Granger stood with their mouths open as their daughter introduced them to the new arrival. "Mum, dad, this is the Minister of Magic?" she raised her voice at the end to confirm that he still was indeed the Minister, and he nodded, "Kingsley Shacklebolt. Minister, this is my mum Helen and my dad Robert."

"It is a pleasure and an honour to finally meet you," said Kingsley, shaking their hands. "We have missed Hermione greatly these last several years. Everyone is looking forward to seeing her again. You must be as proud of her as all of us in the Ministry." He looked over to Hermione in time to see her give a tiny shake of her head.

He turned to her. "No?" he asked quietly. She gave just as tiny a nod. "Well," he said louder and more briskly, "It really is good to see you again," opening his arms.

Hermione stepped into the hug. "You too, Minister."

"What did I tell you, Hermione?"

"Sorry. You too, Shack," she said, smiling.

"Excellent," he said, stepping back and addressing the whole family again. "Right then. This afternoon we have planned a tour of the Ministry of Magic and some of the departments, the Embassy itself, and then dinner with my family at my home. Does that sound acceptable?" Hermione was nodding happily. Her parents nodded as well, not sure of what else they could do.

"Excellent," said Kingsley again. "We'll take the floo, this one is direct to my office, so it's fairly simple." And with that, he took a pinch of floo powder and threw it into the fireplace. It stretched upwards again as the green fire flared up again. "Good day, Minister," he said to his counterpart.

"Minister," came the reply. And with that Kingsley disappeared in a whoosh of green flame.

Mr. Granger blanched. "I suppose you're going to tell me this is safe, too?" he said to the room at large.

Before Hermione could start to reassure him, Major Thomas spoke up. "Safer than driving there, even though it's just down the road. Last year there were about 3,000 traffic fatalities and 30,000 traffic injuries in Great Britain. Last recorded floo death was over 100 years ago." And with that he smiled at the Grangers and flooed away as well.

"Think transporter pad, dad. Or maybe a better analogy would be a pneumatic tube for people," said Hermione. "You can get a little dizzy, and the trick is to keep walking out at the other end rather than try to stop, but other than that it's actually kind of fun."

The Prime Minister spoke again. "Mr. Granger, Mrs. Granger, Hermione, thank you for coming today and listening to our proposal. We didn't know how intensely you felt about all this, or I assure you we would have approached you differently. I sincerely hope to see you Saturday after next. If it's alright with you, I will send Major Thomas and crew out to escort you at 10 am?" Seeing Mr. Granger's reluctance and hesitation, he said "Well, you can discuss it with Minister Shacklebolt." He shook all their hands again, and indicated the fireplace. "Well then, off you go."

Hermione took over. "OK, mum, dad. Take a pinch of powder and throw it into the fire. Once the fire is green, step in. It will take you from there. Hold your arms in. When things start to be normal again, just take a few steps." She looked at her parents' slightly anxious faces. "Do you want me to go first, or help you out here?" Her parents looked frozen in place. "Here, I'll walk you through it." She took her mum's hand and led her over.

"OK mum, take some powder. Throw it in. Good, it's green. Step in and that's it."

"You're sure?" Her mother did not look convinced.

"Trust me, mum. It'll be fine." With that her mother stepped in and a moment later disappeared.

"OK dad, your turn."

Mr. Granger did not look happy about events, but really couldn't back out now. "At least it will be over quick," and soon he disappeared as well.

"Thank you sir, for everything," she said to the Prime Minister. "My parents are good people, really, it's just that…"

"I understand completely, Miss Granger. A couple things." He handed her a card. It just had an elegant script 'B', with a number below it. "This is a direct number to Miss Baker, even after hours. Keep it safe and private, but don't hesitate to call if you need anything, anything at all. And while you're at the Ministry, make sure you meet the current Head of the Department of Magical Relations. They may have resources to help you with your parents' concerns." He shook her hand once again.

"Thank you again, sir. I should be off before they get worried." And with that she disappeared as well.

The Prime Minister went back to his chair and sat back with a loud 'pfuuh' of exhaled air. The door opened quietly and Mr. Emerson poked his head in. "How'd it go, sir?"

The Prime Minister pinched the bridge of his nose and squinted his eyes shut. "I think the best we can say is we failed to screw it up entirely, and Mr. Granger didn't start throwing punches. Hermione seems to be for it, and once she decided that, things went much better. They really have should have done a better job of getting firstborns and their families integrated."

Mr. Emerson closed the door and sat down. "If I may say so sir, that's one of the reasons why we contacted Miss Granger to begin with."

"Agreed, agreed. I hope the rest of the day goes better."

A/N: I struggled with this chapter. It is unlikely that a blind phone call is how the PM would invite anyone over, but the one sided phone call was one of the images that sparked this story, and it's a fun gimmick, so it stayed in. I also struggle with writing interpersonal conflict, part of my job is teaching people how to de-escalate conversations, not escalate, so writing it is contrary to my nature.


	3. Chapter 2: The Other Ministry

A/N: As always, I do not own the rights to any of the Harry Potter characters, locations, concepts etc. I still find myself several billion dollars short in my efforts to obtain them. Anyone want to split the cost with me? I'll go halves. And as always, as per robst, my continued thanks to Ms. Rowling for letting us build sandcastles on her beach.

Chapter Two  
>The Other Ministry<p>

Hermione stepped out of the fireplace into an office remarkably like the one she just left. The Minister and Major Thomas were smiling at Mr. and Mrs. Granger as Mrs. Granger was saying "Well I thought it was fun. I'd love to have one between our home and the office. No more traffic." Her father did not look enthusiastic, but did at least seem thoughtful about it instead of vowing never to do it again. They both looked over as she arrived.

"Alright there? Didn't leave any parts behind?" Her parents both blanched. "Sorry, sorry. It was a joke, losing parts is not possible," she hastened to reassure them. "As Major Thomas said, it's safer than driving." Her mother smiled at the humor, but her father did not seem to appreciate it. '_Baby steps_,' she thought. She steered to conversation back to safer territory. "If I remember right we could get a hookup at home, but I don't think one at your office would be allowed." She looked at Kingsley questioningly.

"True in all regards, Hermione, but I'm not sure your parents are ready for that yet. Why don't we all sit for a bit. There's much to discuss." The Grangers sat in the chairs facing the Minister's large desk. Hermione saw a phone and computer and raised her eyebrows at Kingsley. He caught her look and smiled. "Yes, modern electronics. And not the only ones in the Ministry, I might add. We've finally joined the 20th century." Mr. and Mrs. Granger looked confused.

Seeing this, Kingsley rubbed his brow. "Where to start. At the beginning, I suppose, but which beginning and how far back? A brief overview, perhaps." He glanced at the clock on the wall, then at Major Thomson. "Major, could you have the teams ready by 4:30? We should be at the gallery by then."

The major thought for a moment. "That should be fine, sir. Is it all right if I don't give them much of a heads up on the time change? Be nice to see how they do with short notice."

Kingsley smiled. "Fine with me, but then it's not my name they will be cursing tonight in the barracks. Do whatever you think is appropriate." The major braced to attention briefly, then stepped out.

"Where was I? Oh yes. A crash course in magical history. A couple thousand years ago…. I know but I promise I will keep it brief. Anyway, a couple thousand years ago, at least in what was to become England, wizards and witches did not have to hide away from those without magic. There were relatively few people, and fewer still magicals. Life was hard for everyone, and magic was primitive and limited in its scope. Wizards could become advisors to the local leader if not become the leader themselves, witches were healers or midwives. Some were honoured, even revered, others feared or even condemned, but most just lived their lives like those around them, day by day."

"But magical culture was advancing just a bit faster than the non-magical culture, in practical ways. Food grew better, spoiled less. Magicals were a bit more resistant to disease. Healing spells reduced mortality, lifespans were a bit longer. Life became just a little easier. A magical could take just a little time away from the daily chores of providing warmth and food in pursuit of knowledge, and as they lived longer they could acquire more. A little more knowledge, and life was that much easier, allowing a little more knowledge to be gathered. Magicals were now more likely to know how to read and write, preserving and disseminating the knowledge better and faster. This led to the first little golden age around 500 with Merlin and King Arthur."

Mr. and Mrs. Granger looked surprised at this. "Yes, there was a Camelot, but it was a much smaller pile of rock than is depicted in most art. And yes Arthur and Merlin existed. Much of the rest of what is known in the non-magical world is just bad medieval poetry. Like most golden ages, this one fell due to the personalities of those in power and the loss of the ones holding it all together."

"Let's see. Rome pulled out just after that, and the Catholic Church started becoming a major power in about 600. This was actually a good thing for magicals, as it gave them places to learn and teach. Many priests and even bishops of the time were wizards, and nunneries housed witches away from prying eyes, and became famed for healing. Magical knowledge continued to increase, but as the Church became more organized and wealthy it gradually became less and less tolerant of it. Magicals decided to set out on their own, and around 1000 Hogwarts was founded in the north, and not soon after Oxford was founded in the south."

All the Grangers looked surprised at this. "It's true. Oxford was founded by wizards and witches. Hogwarts continued on as purely magical, but Oxford was open to all and became predominantly non-magical. Hermione here is certainly not the only magical attending, even some of the professors are witches and wizards, though as far as we can tell she has been unaware of this."

"So, where were we? Right, Oxford 1000. So witches and wizards were slowly separating themselves from non-magical folks, mostly just out of habit, shared experiences, etc. Magical villages started up, and magicals started marrying magicals more often. There were a few 'old families' already, but now many more were founded. The magical population started growing faster, clustered in scattered settlements, but with apparition, distance really didn't matter, and privacy was important."

"About this time, magicals, especially the established families, began acquiring something other than knowledge; wealth. In parallel with the growing non magical nobility, magical Britain settled into Noble Houses. With concentrations of knowledge and wealth came power, which by this time was split between the growing Catholic Church, the growing English Monarchy, and the Magic Noble Houses. Magic had the ultimate power if it ever came down to it, but the Church and the Monarchy had sway over a vastly larger numbers of people, and the magical birth rate was never going to change that ratio. So things started to solidify into place, and the separation grew."

"In 1350 or so, the Black Plagues started. Magicals, again being more immune to diseases and having healing charms and potions available, survived whereas non magicals were decimated. This couldn't go unnoticed. Coupled with superstition and the slowly growing intolerance of the Church, you can guess what happened. You survive the plague and your neighbors didn't, you're in league with the devil and driven out of town. You heal your neighbor or friends, you have dark magic and also driven out of town. Enough of that over a decade or two and you can see why magicals tended to congregate together in more isolated areas. Even after the Plagues had run their course, the superstition remained, and anti-magic sentiment continued to grow in the Church. More out of competition for power than actual fear of magic, but fear and superstition are powerful motivators of the masses, and were effectively wielded by those in the Church hierarchy. By 1500 or so, witch hunts were becoming common. Non magicals were of course killed ten to one over true magicals, but even so having the possibility of mobs with pitchforks and torches coming after you and getting burned at the stake gets to you after a while, and magicals started isolating themselves even more."

"Finally things came to a head in the 1600s. The Wizards' Council started meeting formally and eventually formed their own government. They appealed to the Monarchy of the time for protection from the Church but were rejected. They were faced with the choice of fighting or disappearing forever. Still vastly outnumbered, and for the most part wanting to avoid bloodshed, the pseudo government became a real government, the Ministry of Magic, and they chose the disappearing route. The Statute of Secrecy was signed in 1689. Magicals would withdraw entirely from greater Britain to their own parallel country. Isolation was now the law, not just habit. Presented fait-accompli to the Monarchy it was codified into non magical law as well at the level of the ruling head of state and later the Prime Minister. So now the separation was complete."

"Unfortunately, Magical culture promptly began to stagnate. Without the steady influx of innovation from non magicals, and safely ensconced in isolated pockets, there was little need for change. What need for steam power or electricity when you have spells and wands? What need for roads, horses or even cars when you can apparate or floo? Necessity is the mother of invention, but with magic, most of the necessities can be met, so no invention. All that wealth became concentrated into a relatively small proportion of the population, power followed, and eventually we got a government run by the noble families for the benefit of the noble families. Class status came and went in non-magical Britain, but came and stayed for us."

"What had happened in larger Britain previously eventually began to slowly happen in the microcosm of the magical world. There became a small number of people with money and power in the Noble Houses stuck in old traditions surrounded by an ever growing number of magical people with ties to the non-magical world by marriage or by being first born like your daughter, pushing for changes. Tensions grew and grew until the first 'blood war' erupted which corresponded to WWII in your world. But just as the unsatisfactory resolution of WWI led to WWII, so too the unsatisfactory end of the first blood war allowed the origins of the next to take root. This happened in the 1970s then finished in the 1990s, with a little help from Hermione here."

"That brings us to today. The most conservative Noble Houses are mostly either dead or in jail. We've drug our government nearly 100 years forward, and are trying to drag our culture along too. Hence the computer on my desk. The economy has recovered and is growing more than ever before, and we actually have a solid middle class. The Statute of Secrecy is still in place, but we're trying to make life in the two Britains an 'and' rather than an 'either/or.' We're trying to find ways for people like yourselves, not magical but related to the magical world, to have more access. Your visit here today would have been unthinkable 20 years ago, an oddity even 10 years ago. All of this is why we want people like Hermione in leadership positions. She is a great example of someone who can live in both worlds successfully."

"Sorry, I know that was a lot, 2000 years of history in half an hour. You could get a PhD in any one of those time periods, but that's the general flow and the random twists and turns that got us where we are now."

The Grangers sat quietly, trying to absorb all the information. Even Hermione, though she recognized the events as individual items, had never strung them all together like that. Things made much more sense to her now. Her father was the first to break the silence.

"I notice you glossed over the magnitude and details of your most recent war quite a bit. That's the event that's most relevant to me, and my feelings about all this. The Prime Minister called it a terrorist action, now I find out it lasted 20 years and you call it a war."

Kingsley looked thoughtful. "I suppose terrorist action is a much more accurate term. One megalomaniac intent on rule of magical Britain and immortality, less than a hundred close followers and a couple hundred more hangers on, thugs and common criminals with a new outlet for their baser tendencies. They were so successful mostly because many of the close followers were also in the government as members of those Noble Families. They controlled the purse strings and also the major newspaper. So any efforts against them were severely undermined, and which is why it could percolate so long before coming to a head. That same newspaper in its interminably sensationalist fashion labeled it a war, and I guess it stuck. Though I will say, if Riddle and his followers tried now they wouldn't last a week."

"Oh?" said Mr. Granger disbelievingly.

"It's true," said Kingsley, chuckling. "That's one of the things on today's agenda. A little demonstration of the new police force." He glanced at the clock on his desk. "And we should get going, but before we do, I have a couple of things for Hermione that I think she should share with you as well."

Kingsley rose from his chair and turned to the bookshelves behind him. He pulled out a thick book with a modern looking hardcover binding and dust jacket and handed it to Hermione. She raised an eyebrow at him. He chuckled again. "Yes, I know, a book."

She looked at the cover. "Tom Riddle: The Rise and Fall of the 'Dark Lord'" by Padma Patil. In smaller letters across the bottom were the words "The_ only_ account approved by Harry Potter!" She opened the cover, and on the title page was a note to her.

"_Dear Hermione, _

"_I hope that someday this reaches you, and you find my efforts worthwhile. I, and all of Magical Britain, offer our thanks to you for what you have done for us. If you ever wanted to add your side of events to the tale, I would love to write an updated version__…_

_Sincerely yours,_

_Padma_."

Hermione looked at Kingsley again. He smiled. "It's good, and more importantly well researched and accurate. Maybe it will help."

"Thanks, Shack," Hermione said quietly. "Maybe it will."

"And the other one is from me," he said, reaching into the top right hand desk drawer and pulling out a wrapped present. Hermione noted the heft and the way it flexed, and raised an eyebrow again at Kingsley, who laughed again in response. "I know, I know, another book. Open it when you get home. It may help more than the other one actually. And now," he said to all of them, "we should be off." He led them to the door of his office.

"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic," he said as he ushered them through.

They went out into a long, wide, high-vaulted hall. It was brightly lit, though no discrete source could be seen. The ceiling was charmed to be bright blue with a few fluffy clouds drifting across it. A wide red carpet ran down the middle to the other end where two Aurors stood guarding the large double doors. Along each side were three doors, each set apart from the others by low partitions, comfortable chairs, tall plants, and columns that rose to support the arches of the ceiling. In front of each door was a secretary's desk. Even on a Saturday, witches and wizards, some in robes, others in business suits, walked briskly on their tasks, papers (not parchment, Hermione noted) in their hands, or sat in chairs awaiting their appointments. Bob and Helen stared in amazement as paper airplanes slowly glided high above, coming in to land in inboxes on the desks and unfolding themselves flat again, or passed through slots high above the doors into individual offices or out of the room entirely. Two more Aurors were slowly walking up and down the center aisle. The nearer Auror noted their exit and approached as Kingsley stopped at his own secretary's desk. "Lydia, these are the Grangers: Bob, Helen and Hermione. You have their badges ready?"

"Yes sir," Lydia replied, and handed each of them a badge with "GUEST" in large letters on it. "It's an honour to meet you, Miss Granger," she said.

Not sure how to respond, Hermione said "Likewise, I'm sure."

Kingsley continued, "We're stopping by the Magical Relations office, then down to the Auror training gallery. Can you alert the appropriate people, and have Major Thomas join us in about 10 minutes? Thanks."

Kingsley led them down the room, escorted discretely by the Aurors, as Lydia picked up her phone. Ahead of them Hermione saw another secretary answer her phone. She looked up quickly, then disconnected quickly and punched in a number of her own. She spoke briefly, then disconnected again and stood just as they arrived. "Minister, Grangers," she said as she preceded them to the door. "The Head is expecting you." As she opened it, Hermione noted the title on the door: "Department of Magical Relations." "Please, go on in."

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Kingsley waited out in the great hall with the Aurors as they entered another large office. The Head was already around his desk and coming towards them, hand out in welcome. "Hermione! It's wonderful to see you!" Hermione was pleased to see it was Mr. Weasley. He looked much the same as she remembered, perhaps a little thinner on top, a little thicker around the middle. Instead of robes, however, he was dressed in a very smart suit. "Mr. Weasley, it's good to see you, too," she said with a smile as she shook his hand.

He gave her big smile. "I'm so glad you came to visit us. We've all been missing you. And your parents came too, wonderful," he said turning to them. "Mr. Granger, Mrs. Granger, it's very nice to see you again. I was hoping you would come…."

As Mr. Weasley was talking to her parents, Hermione looked about the office. On the wall to the left of the door were four framed certificates. She looked closer, then her eyes widened in surprise. She looked over to Mr. Weasley as he was talking to her parents. Her mother was smiling, and her father, well at least he wasn't frowning anymore. How anyone could be concerned about the pleasantly enthusiastic man was beyond her.

"Mr. Weasley….?" she interrupted. He turned to her and she pointed at the wall. He smiled and blushed slightly.

"Yes. Four A levels. Biology, Chemistry, Physics and Computing. That last one was the hardest. At the beginning I kept wondering how the ones and zeroes fit in those little wires. The physics was my favorite, now I know how a plane stays up!" Her parents both shook their heads at this. At least they seemed amused.

"It seemed appropriate that the Head responsible for dealing with folks other than wizards and witches know a little about them. I'm learning Goblin as well, does that give you a sore throat. I would like to say I'm learning from the centaurs too, but I think for now I can just say I'm spending time with them." He pointed at the certificates. "It's written into the job descriptions. Every employee of the department has to have at least one A level, two for senior staff, four for the head. I had no idea how much there was to learn!" He frowned. "Or how many people had left the magical world. Suddenly this the most popular department to apply to, people who no one have heard from in years seem to be coming out of the woodwork. The waiting list is huge!" He smiled again. "Just proves how important all the changes were, and are, I guess."

Kingsley poked his head in the door and discretely cleared his throat. Mr. Weasley looked up.

"Right." He turned to Hermione again. "I suppose it's too early to ask if you could come visit the family?" he asked wistfully. Hermione grimaced before she could stop herself.

"Yes," said Mr. Weasley with a small smile, "I thought it might be. Don't worry, I understand. Though I think my youngest children have finally gown up a bit. But it can wait."

He led her over to her parents. "Are you going to be at the match Saturday next?"

"Match? We haven't gotten the details for next weekend yet." She looked at him questioningly.

Mr. Weasley smiled. "Ah. There's a Quidditch match in two weeks. We thought you and your parents would like to see it, and there will be a few more people to meet."

Hermione looked at her parents. She wasn't sure where they stood on that yet. "I plan to, Mr. Weasley. I hope my parents come too."

They headed back out into the hall. "Oh, Mr. Weasley? The Prime Minister said you or your department might have some resources for me?" She glanced at her parents briefly. She hoped he would understand.

Evidently he did. "Oh yes, the new intro pamphlet. We're quite proud of these. Really quite obvious when you stop to think about it. Dennis Creevey was quite helpful in their creation, and all the changes that had to be made. Rachel has some in her files."

He stopped at his secretary's desk. "Rachel, can you get a couple of the new intro pamphlets for Miss Granger here? And a current copy of the executive summary of the regulatory changes? Thanks." Mr. Weasley turned to her parents again. "Mr. and Mrs. Granger, it was a pleasure seeing you again. I do hope we will see you weekend after next."

Rachel handed over the pamphlets and a sealed envelope. "Ah, here we are. These are given out to new students at their introductory meetings," he said handing her the color photo laden booklets. "And this is the latest summary of the changes to the rules, regulations and laws pertaining to the whole process. All covered by the Statute of Secrets of course, so be careful with them. Though they are charmed to appear as appliance installation guides to non magicals." Hermione had to laugh at that. "Instructions are on the back how to have your parents read them.

Hermione saw Major Thomas arriving. "Thank you Mr. Weasley. It was nice to see you again. And I hope to see you at the match. Will, er, any of your family be there?"

"No, I'm afraid not. Percy will be there, but will have other duties. Same for Ron. Molly, George and Ginny will be in the ministry box. So it will just be me." Mr. Weasley smiled, he seemed to understand.

Kingsley cleared his throat again. "If we're ready, then? We should be heading off to our next meeting." Major Thomas and the two patrolling Aurors had formed up loosely around them. "I think Mr. Granger in particular will appreciate it." Mr. Granger just raised his eyebrows at this, but didn't say anything. Mrs. Granger took his arm and 'tsk'd' at him.

They headed for the doors at end of the great hall, one of the Aurors leading the way. Kingsley spoke as they walked. "We don't have time for a full tour of the Ministry today, but if there is anything you really wanted to see, we could certainly fit it in."

They left the Minister's Hall and into the Ministry proper. The hallway to the right led to a great open space, to the left Hermione could see a room with elevators. They turned left. Other doors and hallways led off both left and right. "We're going to see a special session at the Auror training facility, then the main entry hall, then the actual Embassy itself. These are just typical offices for the different departments. Most people are not in today, though we are open on some level seven days a week. Here we are," he said as they reached the main elevator bank.

They stepped into one of the waiting cars. Hermione said, "Mum, dad," and nodded to the handles hanging from the ceiling as she grabbed one herself. "This is not your normal elevator." Their eyes widened just a bit as they grabbed a handle each, and the doors closed and the elevator pulled back rapidly, before dropping three floors, then heading to the left for what seemed like a long time before easing up to another grate. Mrs. Granger laughed, "That was fun."

Hermione said, "You should come to Gringott's." She paused for a moment before asking Kingsley in a worried voice, "Can I even go in there? I don't know if they're still mad at me or not."

Kingsley laughed. "We took care of all that. They fined you for damages, we fined them for harboring, erm, proscribed artifacts, and rewarded you in the same amount. So everyone got what they wanted officially, and the money went in a little circle with no one going broke. You're welcome back any time."

"Oh, good," Hermione said as they stepped out of the elevator and headed down yet another hallway. Curious, she asked, "How much money was it?"

Kingsley was still laughing at her. "A million galleons."

"A million..." Her jaw dropped. "I will never in my life have a million galleons..."

Kingsley reassured her. "Like I said, the money went in a little circle and everyone saved face. They will actually be quite happy to see you. They were as happy with the final outcome as everybody else. There were similar arrangements for Ron and Harry."

Hermione's parents were following the conversation with interest. Her mother spoke up, "I never thought about that. Technically you're a bank robber too, aren't you?" She seemed amused. Her father just scowled again. Hermione blanched. "I hadn't thought of that either." She looked at Kingsley with a questioning look.

"Don't worry," he said. "No charges were ever filed, nor will be. The goblins even joked that they wanted your input on their new security arrangements. And they seldom joke." He thought for a moment. "At least I think they were joking, maybe they really do want you to check them out. I'll have to ask next time I meet with them. Here we are."

They had come to an office at the end of the hallway. An Auror sat behind a desk on the right, and another door was on the far wall. Major Thomas was already talking with her, and she looked the group over carefully.

Kingsley led them through the other door which opened into a wide theatre-like room. It had ten rows of seats stretching twenty seats to each side of the central aisle in front of them. Doors were located at each end. The rows sloped down to a window that reached floor to ceiling and ran the length of the room. The window overlooked the largest room Hermione had ever seen. It looked bigger than a full sized football field.

"Wow!" said Hermione. The looks on her parents' faces echoed her amazement. "What is this place?"

"Come on down to the front and have a seat," said Kingsley, leading the way. They went down the central stairs and took the first three seats on the left. The Aurors took station in the corners at the top of the room. Kingsley and Major Thomas stood by the window. "This is our Auror and security training arena. It has several scenarios built into charms and wards in the floors and walls so that we can simulate various places around the magical and non-magical worlds. We can block or allow apparition or portkey travel within the room as we wish. We have greatly expanded the size and scope of operation of our security forces, as Hermione will appreciate once we get started."

"Earlier today we had a training scenario where a group of wizards was trying to break into Gringott's ironically enough, and the response team was to apprehend them before they got into the bank. The Guard response team was successful, so they get to play defender in our next exercise. It will probably be easier to explain as we go, so if you could Major Thomas?"

"Yes sir." He stepped up to the control panel by the window and pushed on a few runes. Instantly the room was filled with a complete replica of Diagon Alley stretching from left to right. All three Grangers gasped with wonder at the sight. They all recognized various shops they had been into before. He pushed on a few more runes and small groups of people began walking up and down the Alley, and going into and out of the shops.

Major Thomas explained. "The room is preprogrammed as it were for different training scenarios. Location, time of day, crowd levels, weather and so on. This is from the scenario this morning. The buildings are solid, and can be entered, but are empty on the inside. The people you see are just simulacrums, physical in nature but not living in any way. You can bump into them, etc, and the room has programmed some basic behavior into them, but they can't speak or think or act independently."

"Gringott's is just below us and to the right a bit. Knockturn Alley is just across the way there, and The Leaky Cauldron is down around the bend to the left. We tried to make it as accurate as possible. We have Heathrow, Piccadilly Circus, The Palace, some of the tube stations, government buildings and some sport venues all preset here for simulations. Plus just some basic setups, which is what we'll use now."

He tapped the runes again and the people and the buildings vanished, to be replaced by dozens of large rectangular blocks, three to four feet square by six to eight feet long, arranged randomly about the room. A small 'house' of blocks was at each end by the doors. He hit another rune and the window shimmered briefly, then seemed to return to normal. "The window will now let us see disillusioned or otherwise invisible people or things." Major Thomas pushed one more rune and pulled up what looked like a normal microphone. "Sergeant Peterson?"

"Yes sir," came the reply from a small grill in the panel.

"Room is all set."

"Yes sir." Figures appeared out of the door to the far right, all dressed in dark fatigues and gear. Some carried combat rifles, other just wands. They gathered near the 'house' and continued their preparations.

Major Thomas tapped one more rune. "Congratulations, Beta team." His voice was evidently amplified throughout the room as most of the participants looked up towards the window. "In reward for beating Alpha team, you get to play defense in the next scenario. Sergeant Peterson will be in the 'command center,' coordinating the defense, the other team will be attacking. Scenario ends with capture of the sergeant or defeat of the attacking team. You will be using blue ammo. Potential firearm or Unforgivable capability in the opponent, so shields would be useless, therefore prohibited. Apparition and portkey wards are up. Understood?"

Sergeant Peterson gave an overhead thumbs up and briefed his team. At the left end of the room, a single figure in dark fatigues had emerged from the door. "Sticks?" Major Thomas said into the microphone. The darkly shrouded figure on the left end of the room paused in his preparations and looked up at them. Hermione drew in a quick breath. "You will be red." He gave a thumbs up and finished checking his gear before standing at ease.

Everyone on the team at the other end had looked up at the word 'Sticks,' then down the room at the single figure. Some then looked skyward, others at the floor with shoulders slumped, others just shaking their heads as they continued prepping. A couple of them seemed to be laughing, and one was apparently expressing their displeasure to Sergeant Peterson, who just shrugged his shoulders and patted them on the shoulder and continued his briefing.

Major Thomas chuckled. "You didn't let them know they were up against Sticks?" Kingsley asked.

"Nope. More fun this way. Besides, they need to be able to plan on the fly."

"Well, you're the one that has to debrief them."

Sergeant Peterson seemed to have given his last instructions and was looking up at the window. 'Sticks' was still standing at ease.

Major Thomas spoke into the microphone again. "Begin!"

Sticks immediately disillusioned himself, as did many of the magical Guard members. Hermione and her parents could still see them as hazy blotches of color thanks to the window. Sticks was running straight up the middle of the room while Beta team was spreading out rapidly among the cover the room provided. Soon anti-disillusionment spells were being fired down the room. The first set of defenders was ahead of him, four pairs of magical/non-magical teams, all in a row across the room behind cover. Sticks angled towards the middle of the left two pairs. An anti-disillusionment spell flew right at him, but Sticks didn't alter course. He charged a large block between the two teams and the spell hit him just as he leapt up on then dove head first off the block, spinning rapidly, and firing off spells as he spun. The two non-magical gunmen were first hit, then the wizard on the left. The one on the right dodged, firing again and again, but couldn't catch the spinning, falling body. Sticks reached out a hand and landed on the ground in a forward roll. He stayed flat and looked back over his head, firing once from the ground at the wizard now behind him, hitting him square in the chest with a big blotch of red, then rolled to his right to take cover behind the same block the right hand team had used, as the two teams on the far side of the room had seen him and started firing. He turned to talk to the non-magical member of the team, who shook his head a few times. Sticks patted him on the shoulder, disillusioned himself, then took off again. The four downed Beta team members gathered and sat on the block to watch the show.

Sticks ran hunched over back up the room a little, across it and then down to take cover behind a block this time between the two teams on the right. He paused for a moment, then his disillusionment charm seemed to flicker and waver a bit. He jumped up firing two spells at the team on his right, then seemed to split into two, the fully disillusioned half ducked back down, but the flickering half went up and over the block and charged the team on the left. The two teams fired spell after spell as the shadowy figure came right between them, but they went right through the charging form, and before they could check fire the two on the left and one on the right were all hit. The mirage faded, and Sticks had wormed his way around the block and hit the wizard on the right before he stopped firing at the illusion.

The next three teams gave up on any subtlety and secrecy and all six laid down covering fire, mixed color and anti-disillusionment spells, at all the blocks in the vicinity. Sticks was pinned. The team on the far right moved one by one to the next bit of cover. It wouldn't be too long before Sticks was surrounded. He made his illusion pop up behind the block to his right, which attracted fire, but only from one of each team, and as soon as they saw their shots passing through it they returned to pounding all the blocks in the area. It had been enough of a break, however, and Sticks had rolled to his left several feet, stopping completely out in the open. Hermione laughed. From above it was easy to see now that the only dangerous places in the room were near cover. No one was targeting where Sticks was at all.

Sticks crawled on his belly towards the team in the middle, crossing under the fire from his left. He made it to the block they were using for cover. Hermione could see the disillusioned wizard on the left, the non-magical on the right, and Sticks now sitting up with his back against the block, safe from fire, looking up at the spells and paintballs coming over and around the block. He rolled to his right and hit the wizard in the gut and squirmed forward to hit the gunman in the side before he could react. Sticks scrambled behind the block and started firing spells back at where he had come from, switching to blue. Neither of other two teams noticed the substitution. The two downed team members next to him were shaking their heads as they sat there. Sticks turned to talk to them, still firing. Sticks grabbed the paint ball gun and started firing it. He then took a spare clip of ammo and waved his wand over it. He popped it open, then disillusioned the now red pellets. Still firing the gun, he levitated the pellets next to a block closer to the team on his left. He began summoning them at himself one by one, making them glow as well. They looked just like his spell-fire. He focused his gunfire at the block, as did the other two teams. The team on his left shifted their positions, coming into Sticks' field of fire. The team on his right had stayed put. Sticks changed from summoning to banishing, and the pellets headed for the left team. The team on the right took this opportunity to advance to a block closer to Sticks' apparent position, putting them ahead of him and in view as well. Sticks heard a muffled voice from the radio on the non-magical beside him. He would have to act quickly before the reply that would not be coming was missed. He tapped the gun with his wand, then stood. He fired both gun and wand several times to his left, eventually hitting both of them. The team on the right were still turning to look behind them when they were hit with several red pellets and spells each. Sticks ducked back down and crawled to his right, heading for the middle of the room. Fourteen down, four to go.

Helen was only half watching the battle below her. In general she wasn't interested in military stuff, consigning it to the 'boys with toys' pile. In this case, if she thought about it too much it gave her the heebie jeebies, and she would start to feel just like her husband. She knew this sort of thing went on all the time all over the world, but with Hermione it intersected their lives in a very personal way, and she didn't want that again. She glanced about the room. Major Thomas and Kingsley were watching intently, occasionally making quiet comments to each other. Her husband was sitting with his arms crossed over his chest, glowering again. Hermione... Hermione had a small smile on her face, and her right hand was twitching in small arcs and circles on the armrest of her seat. Helen turned back to watch, a thoughtful look on her face.

Sticks crawled to a block three quarters of the way to the end of the room. Ahead of him was one more row of cover before the bunker of blocks where Beta team leader was holed up. Hermione could see Sticks scanning the room. Apparently he wasn't sure where the last three opponents were. She could see the disillusioned forms of the wizards, one directly in front of Sticks, the other in the bunker. The two non magicals were behind cover against each wall covering the wizard and room in between them. Everyone was hunkered down, not moving.

Suddenly, all three defenders popped up from cover and began firing rapidly, and apparently randomly. It took Hermione a moment to figure out that they were covering the floor with paint. They all ducked down before Sticks could sort out what they were doing and return fire. Then they began popping up one at a time randomly, still trying to cover the floor with paint, making it hard for Sticks to approach without making tracks.

Sticks poured out some more pellets, disillusioned them and levitated them to the block to the far right, then ran to cover on the far left. He began flicking the pellets with his wand at the non-magical across the room and began picking his way carefully forward through the large blotches of paint. All three opponents were now firing at Sticks' apparent position. Finally the gunman in front of him rose up on his knees and braced his elbows on the block for a better shot. Sticks summoned a pellet and directed it in right into his face plate. Sticks hopped the final few feet to the block, then up and over it. He slapped the defender on the back, then disillusioned his gun and changed the color of the pellets and headed up the room a few feet. He flung the last few pellets at the gunman across the room to attract his attention, then lay on the floor, and taking careful aim, fired. It took three shots before he hit him. Before the wizard in the middle could identify the new source of fire Sticks had opened up with both wand and gun, one high one low, hitting him several times.

Sticks dropped the gun and sprinted to the middle of the room, then knelt, assessing the bunker at the end. The occupant, if there, had remained silent and hidden the whole scenario. Sticks crept cautiously towards the entrance, which turned ninety degrees before opening into the tiny 'room.' He paused, listening, then turned away and headed quietly to the back wall. Sticking his wand in the small gap where four blocks met, he cast a series of spells. Hermione's view was blocked by the walls of the bunker. Red liquid began coming out the door and under the blocks, then crystalized into ice. Mr. and Mrs. Granger both turned green, Mrs. Granger saying "That's horrible." Kingsley looked up at this, a confused look on his face. He looked back at Sticks starting to pull down the blocks of the bunker. He laughed as he understood. "Don't worry, Mrs. Granger. It's just water mixed with red paint. Only Sticks would think to take out his opponent with a first year water spell." The Grangers looked only partially reassured. Eventually they could see Sgt. Peterson crouched in the corner away from the door, wand raised, encased in red ice. Sticks waved his wand and the ice turned instantly back into water, running away across the floor. He cast drying and warming charms, then offered his hand to Sgt. Peterson. The sergeant shook his head ruefully before accepting.

Once up, he looked up at the window expectantly. Major Thomas looked at his watch and announced through the microphone, "Sixteen minutes and forty two seconds." The sergeant shook his head again and began rounding up his team. Sticks headed out the door.

Mr. Granger looked at Major Thomas, "What's with the 16:42?"

Major Thomas laughed. "That's how long they held off Sticks. Record is a little over twenty eight minutes. Any team that holds out over twenty, I buy a round down the pub."

"How often does that happen?" asked Mrs. Granger.

"So far, eight times."

"You mean this year?"

"No, just eight times."

"How often does he get beat?"

"Since he started helping as a trainer, um, never."

Mr. Granger scowled at Major Thomas and Minister Shacklebolt. "I'm not sure why you showed us this. It's not making me feel any better about Hermione being safe in the magical world."

Kingsley opened his mouth to speak, but Major Thomas cleared his throat. Kingsley looked at him expectantly. "If I may, sir?" Kingsley nodded.

"Dr. Granger, as I said before, I am new to the magical world. I am military, trained in counterterrorism, and have been on government and Royal protection details for fifteen years. My job is to do threat assessments and analyses, and guard people as they travel through the public realm. I also have three children, the oldest a seventeen year old daughter. So let me assure you my levels of paranoia about safety are far higher than your own. You have only vague ideas of what bad stuff is out there, so your imagination can run away from you, adding a level of fear. You can easily imagine things that you know you can't defend against, and that has to drive you crazy. I have precise knowledge of all the bad stuff that is out there, most of it worse than you have imagined, and I am tasked to stop it, every time."

"Then you add in magic. First time I saw a demonstration like this I quit my job on the spot. There was really no point in continuing. It seemed obvious that I had no chance against magic. People that could turn invisible, fly, do just about anything with a only a small stick...if they wanted to storm the palace and take over there was no way we could stop them."

Major Thomas held up a hand as Mr. Granger was about to interrupt angrily. "Then the Prime Minister, the Minister and young Sticks there talked me down. They didn't want me to defend against this," he waved his hand at everything on the other side of the window, "they wanted me to _use_ it to help defend Britain and her subjects. That was another matter entirely. It only took a few moments before I felt like a kid in a candy shop. The things I could do with _magic_ on my side..."

"So, why did we bring you here, specifically? First point is that, except for the Minister and the two Aurors here, everyone you see here does _not_ work for the Ministry of Magic. We work for the Queen Herself. We have an official military unit designation to keep the paper-pushers happy, but our only job is to protect the Royals, dignitaries if they are visiting the Royal Family, the Prime Minister as needed, and now the Embassy staff. The Ministry of Magic is tasked with providing us a place to train, but does not command us. We wanted to show you, that at even very high levels, magicals and non-magicals were working together, under the command of, and for the benefit of, the non-magical world."

"The second is the safety of your family. In general, for hundreds of years, the magical realm had tried to have as little contact with the non-magical world as possible. My fears of wizards storming the palace were completely unfounded. It has never happened, mostly out of self-preservation. There are just too many non magicals to fight. Even as crazy as he was, Mr. Riddle had seemingly no intent on taking over the non-magical world. He could have popped into parliament while it was in session, or the Prime Minister's office, or The Palace at any time, but he never did. For him we just weren't worth bothering with. But if some witch or wizard tried now, either in the magical world or out, we are ready for them. If we do our job right, they would be stopped like all the other terrorist plots that are stopped every year. So for you personally, you are hundreds of times more likely to be struck by lightning, or get mugged in broad daylight, or have a bus flatten you during your commute than you are to ever see a witch or wizard, much less interact in any way with one. You would be far better served worrying about the IRA than someone magical."

"Third is the safety of your daughter. Right now, she is the least likely person in this room to be able to defend herself. She's small, has no hand to hand training, can't apparate out of here, and _has_ _no wand_. She might know to run like hell sooner than you if someone started firing spells, but other than that she's frankly helpless. There's a Krav Maga studio on campus, and I suppose in the year and half she has left there she could learn some decent self-defense skills. But if you want her safe, have her carry her wand. If she had that, she'd be third toughest to stop in the room, behind the Minister and the senior Auror over there. I know for certain that at one time she was capable of beating the junior Auror. If she had been carrying her wand all these years, I think the Minister is out of practice enough that only the senior Auror could stop her. Against any non-magical or the rare random witch or wizard she may bump into, she'd be unstoppable."

Mrs. Granger looked at her daughter, then back to Major Thomas. "She's that powerful a witch?"

Major Thomas smiled. "There was a little, ah, study group at her school for the Defense Against the Dark Arts class one year because the teacher was pants. Sticks there was a member. Hermione was teaching _him_ spells."

Mr. Granger glowered even more throughout Major Thomas' speech. "My daughter is not a soldier."

Major Thomas looked at Mr. Granger thoughtfully for a long moment. "I think Hermione being a powerful witch bothers you as much as, if not more than, her possibly being a victim." He raised his hand again as Mr. Granger gathered himself to speak. "I understand completely. I don't want my children to have to go through what Hermione went through, nor to ever have to do the things she had to do. I don't want them to have to do what I do, either. I want them to be accountants or bureaucrats, something very boring and very safe. But she had to do them, otherwise she wouldn't be here. Possibly none of us would be here. We're not recruiting her to be a soldier, we want her to be a diplomat and a lawyer, to help shape things so that what she went through never happens again."

Mr. Granger still looked angry, but he seemed to be listening to what Major Thomas was saying.

"And just to clarify, I also agree that your daughter is not a soldier. She just excels at magic, like she excels at anything else she puts her mind to."

Hermione blushed a little at the Major's compliment, but was thinking more about his words to her father about her being a powerful witch. In all their discussions he had only talked about his worries of what could happen, and did happen, _to_ her. But now she could see that he was equally as worried about what she could do, and had done, to others and the psychic cost that might entail. She had fought, cast spells with intent to harm at others. She was sure she had in fact, killed, though she couldn't say precisely who may have died from what spell. She had carefully kept that from them, but what did they suspect, or guess? It was a war, after all. It ate at her at times, late at night, though less often now. But had they heard her nightmares? She certainly had had them often enough in the beginning. Was he also afraid _for_ her, her soul, her humanity?

Her brain shifted into overdrive again. Her parents had never seen her do simple everyday spells because of that stupid rule on underage magic. Their first big exposure to her magic was her telling them about fighting in a bloody magical war after restoring the memories she had robbed from them after making them give up their lives and move to a whole other country. She cringed internally. Not only was he afraid _for_ her, he probably was on some level afraid _of_ her. In order to protect them from possible magical assault she had assaulted them with magic, completely turning their lives upside down without even discussing it with them. She simply thought she knew better. A pit as big as the room in front of her appeared in her stomach. How was she going to broach that with her father? No matter what she said, he would always be right. She had done horrible and powerful things, including to her parents, what guarantee could she give that she wouldn't again if she picked up a wand? If his own daughter had cast such spells on them, certainly every other magic user was a possible threat. Suddenly his attitude and actions seemed perfectly reasonable. How could she regain his trust again? How could she convince him that she wasn't something to be feared?

She was brought out of her thoughts by Kingsley uncomfortably clearing his throat. "Well, we should be off. We need to head to the Embassy before they close for the day."


	4. Chapter 3: The Embassy

A/N: Usual disclaimer. Still don't own the rights to any of the Harry Potter characters, locations, concepts, still don't have enough money to buy the rights, and these stories aren't getting me there. The beach is still nice, (and still Ms. Rowling's) the water is warm, and this sand castle is getting bigger.

Chapter 3  
>The Embassy<p>

After leaving the elevators they headed back the way they had come, toward the Minister's Hall, but passed it to go to the main entry hall. Bob and Helen were impressed again in spite of themselves. The main entry hall was huge, and much taller than the Minister's Hall, with several stories of windows overlooking the vast open space. Here too the ceiling was spelled to look like a bright summer day. Tiny paper airplanes flew about high above. Witches and wizards walked alone or in small groups on whatever tasks they were about.

In the middle of the room was a fifty foot tall obelisk made of white marble with gold, silver and black flecks throughout. They could see words were carved over most of its surface, but couldn't read them from where they were. Around its base was a large pool of water, with stepping stones, slabs of stone to sit on and other slabs of stone with water gently bubbling over the tops. As they approached they could read the large words at the top of each side. On three sides it said "DEPARTED" and on the remaining side "MISSING." The party stopped at the edge of the pool. Now they could see that rest of the surfaces were covered by names. Hundreds if not thousands of names.

"Our memorial," said Kingsley simply. "For a while the 'missing' names were rapidly changed to 'departed' or removed entirely as we found out what happened to folks, or located them, in Britain or not. We don't change many names any more. It's spelled to be relevant to the observer if you touch it."

Hermione had a lump in her throat as she looked at all the names, and her eyes stung. She stood for a minute with her hand over her mouth, before slowly making her way over the stones to the platform at the base. The air was cool and pleasant, and the water bubbling over the stones created a pleasant murmur, dampening the sounds from the rest of the great hall. She reached the base of the obelisk, and she felt it tower over her. The multitude of names made it seem much larger and heavier than if it was just of stone. Tentatively she put her hand on the marble in front of her and the names swirled like snow in the wind. Hermione saw the names of those dearest to her gather around her hand, Fred Weasley, Remus and Nymphadora Lupin, Sirius Black, Albus Dumbledore, Lavender Brown, Colin Creevey, even Dobby, dozens of other names of people she had not thought of in years. Surrounding those were names of people she was only acquainted with, and at the periphery names she recognized but may have never met. The names blurred. She laid her forehead against the cool stone and closed her eyes. Tears leaked onto her cheeks and made her nose stuffy.

Things buried for many years welled to the surface. Maybe not the fear, the desperation, the aching bone-deep fatigue, but the grief, loss and sadness rose up and overflowed, blotting out her awareness of her surroundings. Did she want to come back to this? She had just hours ago been excited about the possibility, now doubt assailed her. Would she feel this way every day she came to work? Would she make new friends only to have them torn away, blotted out by some nutter with a wand and an inferiority complex? Could she go through that again? Could she risk the possibility? Maybe her parents were right. True, she was magical. Didn't mean she needed to use it every day. She had gotten along just fine without it the majority of her life. Even if she did use magic on occasion, she didn't need to associate with other witches and wizards, much less the Ministry. Just keep it hidden from non magicals was the only rule. No reason to put a target on her own back, or set herself up for daily abuse and scorn yet again.

Anger bubbled up through the grief, pushing aside the doubt, mixed slowly to form a firm resolve. She could, if she wanted. Or not, if she wanted. She could leave at any time. She could succeed in either world, succeed in _both_ worlds. She could work to make this monument the last that would ever need to be erected. She could work for the ones that couldn't, the ones whose names were here. The whirlpool of emotions slowly drained away, leaving a sense of peace.

Helen Granger watched as her daughter approached the obelisk and place her hand upon it. She saw the words swirl and gather, and her daughter lean against them. She felt a tightness in her throat. They had never talked about this. They had talked about events, and people, and fighting, but never the loss, never what it _meant_ to Hermione. Those names were _friends_, a precious commodity for Hermione. She felt selfish all of a sudden. Hermione had lost so much, these dead, then given up even those that hadn't died, for them. Regardless of the magic or the danger, this had been her world for several years, and they had kept her from it. They would have to talk about this later, perhaps even without her husband. She looked up at him and saw his scowl again. It would not be easy, but it needed to be done. She looked around the room, and saw small clusters of people gathering, with more coming all the time, watching Hermione as well, but held back by the Aurors and maybe her daughter's grief. She looked back towards the hall they had come from and gaped in amazement. She tugged on her husband's arm.

Bob Granger watched as his daughter approached the obelisk and place her hand upon it. He saw the words swirl and gather, and his daughter lean against them. He felt his anger grow again. This was precisely why this was all such a bad idea. This world was not for them, not for his daughter. It brought only danger and grief and pain. Nothing could be worth risking it again, supposed changes and assurances be damned. He looked down at his wife. She might not agree, she seemed more open to all of this. They would have to talk about this later. He turned back to see his daughter still leaning up against the stone. No, never again.

His wife tugged on his arm and pointed behind them. His eyes widened in shock. In an alcove recessed into the wall next to the main hallway they had recently exited, a large sculpture seemed to be coming out of the wall, part high relief, part full sculpture. In the middle front was a wizard pointing a wand, to the left of him another. He vaguely recognized them. To their right was a witch with a bushy head of hair, also brandishing a wand. She was easily recognizable as Hermione, but nearly ten feet tall. To her right were a veritable horde of shorter creatures with big eyes and pointy ears, armed with knives and cleavers and rolling pins for Pete's sake. To the left of the wizards were centaurs, with arrows drawn in large bows, and a giant holding a tree trunk of a club. Behind them all were hundreds of witches and wizards fading back into the wall, all with wands drawn.

Kingsley looked around from watching Hermione to see Major Thomas quietly organizing the Aurors to keep back the slowly gathering crowd, then to see the Grangers staring at the statuary along the wall. "Ah, yes, our 'other' memorial." They both turned to listen to him. "That was the first design, and initially slated to go here in the middle, but someone erm, rather forcefully objected, saying while it did exemplify the diversity of the people fighting Voldemort, it seemed to glorify the fight over the peace the battle achieved, and neglected those who gave their lives. We eventually reached the compromise you see here."

Mr. Granger looked back to the statue of his daughter, and just now noticed the gathering crowd. He looked back at Kingsley and raised an eyebrow.

"The people?" Mr. Granger nodded. "Well, as you can see," said Kingsley nodding towards her statue, "Hermione _is_ a national hero after all, and she hasn't been seen in years. It's not surprising that people want to see or talk to her. That's one reason we planned this tour on a weekend, fewer people around."

Mr. Granger didn't know what to make of all that. He just settled for another scowl as he thought about it. They all turned as Hermione was making her way back to them over the stepping stones, wiping tears from her eyes. Her voice was hoarse. "Thanks, Shack. It's perfect, so peaceful. The spellwork is amazing..." She paused as she saw the other memorial in the distance. "Ack! What the hell is that? That's not me, is it? Look at my hair!" She looked back up at Kingsley, who was trying hard not to laugh. "It's not funny! Hundreds of people walk by that every day?"

"I'm afraid so. Harry hated it too, it was supposed to be out here in the middle. He thought you might react this way. But the general public just had to have some sort of statue of you three, and better here than in the middle of Diagon Alley, don't you think?"

Hermione blanched. "Okay, fine. But I don't have to like it." She studied it further. "I do like that they included all the elves, and centaurs, and even Grawp. I can even see Kreacher and Winky." She smiled. "Nice fry pan."

Mrs. Granger spoke up. "Grawp?"

"Hagrid's giant brother," she said, pointing. "Remember, Hagrid wanted us to teach him English and manners?"

"Oh, my. He's bigger than I imagined."

Hermione laughed. "That's not to scale, he's actually bigger. Even just life-size he wouldn't fit in the space there very well."

"Oh, my," was all her mother could say.

"Well," said Kingsley, "we should be off. We'll stop by the Embassy for a bit, then can relax over dinner. Shall we?" he asked, sweeping his arm towards the main entry.

Hermione started off, then noticed the gathering crowd. "What's all this?" she asked. Kingsley kept them moving, Major Thomas and the Aurors forming up on their group. There were six of them now, keeping a ten foot clear space around them as they headed out. The gathered people started talking and pointing as they could now clearly recognize her. As they reached the edge of crowd, someone started clapping, and soon everyone was applauding loudly. There were probably two hundred people by now. Hermione blushed uncomfortably and looked up at Kingsley. He stopped the group, and turned to face the crowd. The applause got louder and louder. Hermione blushed redder. Her parents looked confused and uncomfortable.

Kingsley said quietly, "Wave, Hermione." She did and the crowd cheered and clapped louder. Kingsley looked down at her, "May I?" She nodded, trusting him. Kingsley stepped forward and addressed the crowd. "Ms. Granger is here today to pay her respects to the missing and fallen. She thanks you for your appreciation and your respect for her privacy. Thank you." With that, he returned to the group and led them off again through the still clapping crowd, Major Thomas chivvying people out of their way. "That should be enough," he said quietly. "We confirmed you were here, shared your appreciation, and were polite, but didn't give any more details. The monument was reason enough for you to be here."

"But why would they be gathering and clapping to begin with?"

Kingsley smiled apologetically. "You're still quite famous. Being gone all this time, the novelty hasn't worn off."

Hermione groaned, then suddenly started looking around before relaxing again. "No press? They're usually swarming around like hyperactive vultures by now."

"The press has also changed for the better. We've passed some libel laws modeled after the ones in the non-magical world, and the new owner of the Prophet Group is friendly to the Ministry. And any Ministry employee who called reporters in without going through appropriate channels would be out on the street by the end of the day."

"And Rita?"

"Ah, yes, Ms. Skeeter. Gone. She just couldn't adapt to the new rules, and got fired from the Prophet. She freelances for some of the gossip magazines, seems to be happier, and no one expects her stuff to be true."

They passed through one of several arches that spanned the hall, each manned by an Auror. Hermione felt a slight tingle as she went through. "What was that?"

Kingsley chuckled. "Another security feature we added. Catches polyjuiced, imperioused, disallusioned and marked people, and many types of cursed objects. Keeps roving bands of teenagers from infiltrating the Ministry and stealing stuff."

Hermione blushed. "Sorry about that."

Kingsley laughed at her. "Don't worry about it. I was just teasing. Be assured the only official notice we took of all your little escapades was to make a statue of you and put in the arches."

"I might rather be fined." She looked back at the arches. "That's a clever bit of magic. How long did it take them to work it all out?"

Kingsley grimaced, no longer amused. "An afternoon. The spell- and rune-work had existed for decades. It just never could get approved by the Ministry or the Wizengamot to be installed. Too many people needed security to be lax."

Mr. Granger snorted. "At least magical politicians are as stupid as ours are." He remembered his present company. "No offense meant, of course."

"None taken," said Kingsley. "After working up close and personal with them and undoing centuries of collective self-serving idiocy, I can only agree with you."

They were walking past the banks of floo fireplaces on each side, a few witches and wizards coming and going with green flashes. Up ahead Hermione could see something new had been added. There was a wide bank of stairs with a central handrail, and on each side..."Hey, escalators!"

Kingsley chuckled. "Yep. Arthur just had to have them put in. With the influx of first born employees, many without floo connections, and visitors of varying magical ability, we needed a new entrance. The phone booth was not big enough to handle the visitor traffic, and the loos put a lot of people off." Mr. and Mrs. Granger looked very confused at this. Hermione added this to the mental list of things to explain later. Kingsley continued explaining as they rode up the escalator, their escort now down to Major Thomas ahead and two Aurors behind, the rest returning to the main hall. "Many people were happy riding the Tube with friends or family, or apparating, so we connected to the nearest Tube stop and allow apparitions here."

They reached the top and passed by two more Auror guards into another large round room. To the right was another archway labeled 'Charing Cross,' ahead was a pair of doors labeled 'Embassy,' and to the left was a large alcove with a numbered grid marked out on the floor. As they looked, a witch in business skirt and jacket appeared with a pop on the number '3' square and walked in, heading for the down escalator. There was a circular information desk in the center with another Auror seated behind it. She looked up at their arrival and nodded to Major Thomas. As they approached the Embassy door she touched her wand to a rune on her desk and the doors opened. It was an elevator. They all trooped in, and Kingsley pressed the top "E" button above the "M" button. Mr. and Mrs. Granger looked about for handholds. Major Thomas spotted this and said reassuringly, "Don't worry, this only goes up and down, and gently at that." They looked relieved.

The elevator rose, gently as specified, for some time before coming to a halt. The doors opened into a lobby that looked like more like a small bank than anything else. The front windows and glass doors looked over the north end of Whitehall road, Charles I's statue and Nelson's column visible in the distance. The large entry way was separated from the rest of the room by a low rail, a floo on one side. A few desks were situated in the open space in the middle of the room, and a high counter closed off the back of the room. At their entry, a women at the counter picked up a phone and spoke into it briefly.

Moments later, a middle aged man nearly as tall as Kingsley came out of a double door across from them. He had on a dark suit with a yellow tie with black diagonal stripes on it. He smiled broadly and held out his hand as he approached. "Minister, it's a pleasure to see you again."

"Ambassador Abbott, likewise. May I introduce our guests, Hermione Granger…"

Ambassador Abbot shook her hand firmly. "Ms. Granger, it is an honour to finally meet you. I've heard many good things about you."

"Thank you sir, it's a pleasure."

Kingsley continued, "And her parents Dr. Robert Granger and Dr. Helen Granger."

"Dr. Granger, Dr. Granger," he said, shaking their hands. "A pleasure to meet you both. You must be very proud of your daughter."

"Well. Let's go up to the conference room where we can sit and chat for a bit, shall we?" Ambassador Abbott led the way back through the double doors. A hallway led to the right, towards the back of the building, with a wide set of stairs rising up along the far wall. The stairs turned to the right, leading to a room above the one they just left. A large conference table dominated the middle of the room. Arranged near the windows overlooking the street were three couches around a coffee table. The young lady from behind the counter was just placing a tea service on it. She nodded politely to them and stepped out. "Please, be seated."

Hermione and her parents sat on the couch looking directly over the street. Government buildings stretched left and right, and they could now see into parts of Trafalgar Square. It was packed with pedestrians today, and traffic was busy. The Ambassador himself poured out the tea.

"If I remember the itinerary correctly," the Ambassador began, "you've met with the Prime Minister today, then the Minister, then seen parts of the Ministry. Correct?" They all nodded. "Excellent. Well, I suppose then I should give you a little briefing on the Embassy."

"After the defeat of Mr. Riddle and his followers, relations between magical and non-magical Britain were being handled by informal meetings between the Queen, the Prime Minister and the Minister of Magic. These meetings became more and more frequent, and eventually it became evident that there needed to be a formal office and process to handle it all. The Queen suggested she needed an Ambassador to deal with the Magical world, and as of two years ago, here we are."

"We have an interesting role. We're part of both the magical and non-magical governments. We serve the Queen as the primary liaison between her government and the magical world as a whole. So magical dignitaries from other countries schedule their visits through us whether they are visiting the magical government, the non-magical government or both. These days, it is usually both, as the Queen and the Prime Minister like to keep tabs on what is going on in the magical world. Also, if there is any notable official business between magical and non-magical Britain, it can be arranged through our office, though much of the day to day operations is handled directly through the Queen, the Prime Minister and the Minister working together. There is some overlap and we are still working out the finer points of what's my bailiwick and what's not, but better to discuss it twice then not at all, what?"

Hermione nodded. She was very much in agreement with him, though she did have some questions. "What about Mr. Weasley and his department?"

"Arthur? Excellent man. He's done more for magical non-magical relations than any single person in either ministry. His department is focused on a couple of things. First is relationships with non-human species here in Britain. Eventually if they form formal governments they may transfer to my department with Ambassadors and such, but for now Arthur is working to sort that out. The Goblins are so entwined into our economy and culture that maybe someday they'll just be their own department in the Ministry, but we just don't know yet, and they haven't let on what they would prefer. The second is the rules and regulations regarding magical non-magical human interactions, especially how to introduce and incorporate new magical folk and their families into the magical side of things."

"Our office and his work very closely together. We do the outreach and welcoming, he does the administration of the details, and runs interference against the Wizengamot. They don't have any authority over the Embassy, and were quite put out over that in the beginning. It took them a while to accept that I was higher up in the food chain as it were than them, or even that they were in the food chain. The Queen set them straight in one of her addresses, though." Both the Ambassador and Kingsley chuckled at that.

"Regardless, I need to be in both governments at once, Arthur works mainly as my contact in the magical one. But really the Minister, the Prime Minister, Arthur and I meet regularly and hash things out. Arthur gets stuck with all the paperwork, but he and his department do very well with it."

"So all the people that work here...?"

"Are witches and wizards? Not necessarily. Some are non-magical members of a magical family, or relatives of first borns. We all work directly for the Queen, not the Ministry. As I said, it is a very interesting arrangement, but it seems to be working well." He chuckled again. "I haven't had anyone try to bribe or leverage me since the first month."

All three Granger's eyebrows lifted over that. Mr. Granger was the first to speak. "What happened to them?"

Kingsley answered. "Sloppy they were. Convicted in a Magical court in about ten minutes with Ambassador Abbott's memory and some veritiserum, with the Queen in attendance as the offense was against 'her' government, and sent to a non-magical prison. Kept away from the other prisoners, of course."

Hermione couldn't fully stifle her laugh over the thought of someone like Malfoy in a 'muggle' prison. Kingsley and the Ambassador both smiled.

"Precisely," said Kingsley, guessing what she was thinking. "Then the Queen reminded them that _both _governments were hers and any similar cases would be handled the same. It's been downright boring since then."

"As it should be," added the Ambassador. They both nodded at that.

Hermione had another question. "Sir, are you in any way related to Hannah Abbot? She was in my year at school."

He smiled at this. "Yes, indeed. A niece. Or some degree of cousin I believe if you go the long way around. She is Mrs. Longbottom now, I believe you know Neville as well?" Hermione smiled happily and nodded. "They, like many others, married soon after they graduated. I can pass on a message, if you like."

"Oh, yes please. Congratulations, of course, and that I've missed them. And if I return to the magical world, I'd like to see them again someday."

He nodded. "Of course. Now then," he continued, "we should probably discuss your potential role in all this, shouldn't we?"

"Yes, sir. People have touched on it briefly, but no one has gone into it in depth."

"Right, then. As an entirely new entity, straddling two worlds, staffing has been an issue. I do have a degree from Oxford, but it's in Economics. Handy, but not crucial. We have one actual practicing lawyer, a non-magical from a magical family, but he has done mostly estate planning prior to this, and frankly wants to return to it eventually. Finding non-magical trained lawyers who are aware of the magical world is a difficult thing. He's done well, but we really need someone trained in international law or with a political science background if at all possible. We were looking to recruit someone from Hogwarts or within the Ministry to start training, but here you are several years ahead of schedule. You're first born, so understand the issues we're fixing intimately, and your interest in human rights is perfect. You're academic record in both worlds is impeccable."

Hermione interrupted, "But I don't have my NEWTS or a diploma from Hogwarts."

The Ambassador just laughed. "I've talked with Minerva and Filius. You were practically ready for your NEWTS before you left. I think you could be awarded Charms and Defense right now. Far easier for you to finish the rest, if you feel it's necessary, than for some other Hogwarts graduate to get a law degree from Oxford. If you don't take this job, we would have someone else do exactly what you've done."

"Regardless, I need an assistant, and the Embassy needs a lawyer. They would attend the regular meetings with the Ministers, and Queen as needed, work with Arthur on the legislation and regulations, meet with visiting dignitaries, travel with me and the team as needed, and work on negotiations with other countries and with the non-magical world as issues arose. Eventually they would be traveling on their own. The ultimate goal would be to take over for me once they had enough experience. As I said, my education is in economics, and while I'm learning as I go, eventually everything will have to be codified into law, and that should fall to someone specifically trained in that field. The schmoozing and the politicking can be learned on the job. "

Hermione sat, thinking about all that Ambassador Abbott had said. "That's quite a plan. I don't really know if that's what I had in mind..."

"Well, what did you have in mind?"

"I wanted to work for the rights of the common citizen in areas of the world where they were suppressed."

"Admirable, and needed," Ambassador Abbot said, nodding his head. "_How_ were you going to do that? Work for the government, government watchdog group, political activist group, international organization, United Nations?"

"I really haven't decided yet. I was waiting to see what the European Court of Human Rights experience was like, what options I was exposed to, before deciding. But I think I would like something on the scale of the European Court, or maybe the UN if I was given a specific country or population to work with."

"A reasonable plan." He glanced at Kingsley, who gave a small nod. "What I would like to do is officially offer you the position as my assistant as another option. As far as Kingsley and Arthur have brought us, we have a long way to go, and centuries of inertia to overcome. And once we are satisfied with our own situation, we need to start exporting it. There are many countries in Europe and around the world that need a similar housecleaning, and we can start to influence them as well. This is not a short term thing. In addition, Arthur has a whole bunch of ideas regarding merging non-magical technology and education into the magical world, and seeing what ways magic can benefit the non-magical word as well. There is a lifetime of worthwhile effort and work ahead of us. I think we can meet your needs and interests, at the scale you want, with the added bonus of continued life in the magical world, to whatever degree you desired."

"That's... a very attractive offer, Ambassador," she said, looking at her parents. "Ah, but, I don't think I'm ready..."

Ambassador Abbott held up a hand. "No reply is needed now, indeed not for a few years. You need to finish your studies at Oxford, and the experience in France that you will hopefully gain is invaluable. Regardless of the path you choose, I'm sure that the world will be a much better place because of your efforts. We just wanted to get our bid in first, as you really are the ideal candidate for what we are trying to achieve."

Hermione flushed. "I hope you're not expecting too much out of me. Really, I'm just a second year law student."

The Ambassador laughed loudly but not unkindly at her. "Hermione, comparing your achievements, academic and otherwise, to mine when I was your age makes me look like Mr. Bean." Hermione couldn't help but smile at that. "Truth be told, I'm basically here to hold things together until you arrive, then my job will be to be to support you and find _you_ an assistant. I might know what I'm doing enough by then to fill that role, but I don't want it forever."

Hermione shook her head. "You're too kind. But thank you for the very generous offer. I certainly will keep it in mind. I'm sure my parents and I will have lots to talk about."

Ambassador Abbott smiled. "Hmmm, yes. That's all we could ask for. Now I know that you have further plans for this evening, so I should let you get to them. Do you have any more questions for me at all?" He asked, looking at each of them in turn. Hermione looked at her parents, and they shook their heads. "Well then," he said standing, and they all stood as well. He pulled a small case out of his jacket pocket, and handed a card to each of them. "This is my contact information here at the Embassy. Any of you can call or write me here if you have further questions." He pulled out his wand. "And, if I may?" he asked looking at Mr. and Mrs. Granger. They nodded warily, not really sure of what he was meaning. He tapped each of the cards with his wand and they glowed briefly. "The front doors are covered by a notice me not charm. These cards are now spelled to exempt you from that as long as you are holding them. They won't work for anyone else, either, so remember whose is whose. If you want to schedule another face to face meeting in the future, just let me know."

The Ambassador led the way back down to the main room. He shook her hand warmly again. "Hermione, it was an honour and a pleasure to meet you. Please come see me again after you get back from France, and write or call anytime if you have any questions about anything."

"Thank you, sir."

He turned to her parents. "Dr. Granger, Dr. Granger, a pleasure to meet you both. I'm sure after this whirlwind tour, you will have many questions. My offer stands for you as well. Write or call anytime, or come visit."

"If we think of anything, we will," said Mrs. Granger.

"Excellent. I will leave you in the Minister's capable hands, then. Minister."

"Ambassador," replied Kingsley, and the Ambassador headed back out the door they had come in through.


	5. Chapter 4: Dinner

A/N: My thanks for all the reviews. They have been supportive or helpful (or both). Yes, Mr. Granger is a right bastard at the moment. Perhaps rightfully so, from his point of view the people that have repeatedly tried to kill his daughter are back. What would you do? That's the conflict that is driving the story and must be resolved somehow. No conflict, no story. No, he and Mrs. Granger have not been controlling Hermione's life all along. A decision was made, rightly or wrongly, several years ago (2-3 for study, 3 for King's College, a couple in Oxford) that Hermione wouldn't use magic any more. She hasn't. Her parents haven't had to 'control' her on this issue as it just hasn't come up, Hermione has kept her word/promise, and every day that she hasn't used magic makes it easier to not use it the next day. The issue has faded into a skeleton in the closet that every family has. Hermione has moved on in the non-magical world, and her parents are/have been caring and supportive. Now of course events have transpired to bring the skeleton out of the closet and things are unpleasant and tense and in need of a solution. Hence the story.

As always, I do not own the rights to Harry Potter or any related concepts. I fear my New Year's resolution (Happy New Year!) to buy the rights will come up short. My thanks again for Ms. Rowling allowing us to build sandcastles on her beach.

Hermione is Back: Chapter 4  
>Dinner<p>

Kingsley addressed Hermione and her parents. "Now then, travel for dinner. We can call a car, and it'll take about an hour to get there. We could floo from my office, which would be much quicker. Or we can apparate you from just downstairs. I'd like to apparate, as that would be the best method of travel in a couple of weeks, and it might be nice to practice."

Mrs. Granger looked at Hermione. "Apparate?"

Hermione tried to explain. "You remember _A Wrinkle in Time_?" Her mum nodded. "It's kind of like the tesseract, bringing point B to point A, but you feel like there's a drinking straw you have to squeeze through to get there." Her parents looked doubtful. "I got my license when I turned 17." They still looked doubtful. She looked hopefully at Major Thomas. "Safer than driving?"

He nodded. "Safer than driving, unless you're inebriated. Then about the same accident risk. You're not endangering anyone else on the road, though, just yourself. As for splinching, a wave of the wand and you're fixed."

"Splinching?" asked Mrs. Granger.

"Ah... leaving part of yourself behind," said Hermione hesitantly.

"What?!" said both her parents.

Hermione sighed. "We're going to have to have a long talk about magical healing. Like Major Thomas said, a wave of a wand and you're all put back together."

Her parents looked at her dubiously. She just shrugged.

Mr. Granger turned to Major Thomas, who smiled pleasantly. "Worse than the fireplace bit?" he asked.

"About as unpleasant overall, just over quicker."

"Marvelous." He glared at Major Thomas and Kingsley. "I don't think you gentlemen are being very successful in your attempts to reassure us." Hermione looked at her father. There was almost an element of teasing in his voice.

Kingsley seemed to sense it as well. He smiled. "I know all this is a lot to take in. And really you're doing very well. But most magical people would look at the cars on the road and wonder why anyone in their right mind would get into a small metal and glass box and hurtle down the road at high speeds with other metal boxes careening towards them. They would feel trapped and vulnerable. And statistically, they are correct. If apparating was worse than driving, we'd all be driving."

"Fine. We'll apparate. Anything we have to do?"

Major Thomas smiled. "Just hold on tight. Some people feel better if they close their eyes."

"Are we settled, then?" asked Kingsley. Seeing everyone in agreement, he continued, "Very good. I'll just let my wife know we're coming…." He waved his wand and his lynx patronus appeared. He spoke directly to it. "Three for dinner, apparating soon," and it vanished out the window.

"What was that?" asked Mrs. Granger.

"Message patronus," said Hermione. "Kind of like an email, just without the computers."

"Huh. Very handy."

"Yes, it is. And I don't have to be at my desk to send it. Right, then," said Kingsley. "If we could all head back down to the main entryway, we can be off. The wards here won't allow it." The aurors had summoned the elevator already.

Kingsley led the way across the entry room to the apparation alcove. "Keep to the left. The right grid is for incoming, that's why the squares are numbered, spreads out the traffic. Grey gridlines are for walking, white squares are for apparating. The aurors and I will side-along you there."

Hermione and her parents each found their way to a white square. Kingsley offered his arm to Hermione, the two aurors offering theirs to her parents. Hermione took his arm and smiled at her parents, and they followed her example. "Hang on tight."

Kingsley and Hermione disappeared with a 'pop.' Mr. Granger's eyes went wide, and Mrs. Granger's 'eek' was cut off by the dual 'pops' of their own apparation.

They appeared in rapid sequence on the front path of a large country manor. Mrs. Granger's 'eek' ended as she felt solid ground under her feet. Mr. Granger was less generous.

"Bloody hell! You do that to yourself on purpose whenever you want to go somewhere?"

"You do get used to it," said Kingsley. "I don't really even notice much anymore. And we've just come about forty miles without having to deal with rush hour traffic."

"So where are we?" Hermione asked.

"North and a little east of London. Nearest town is Biggleswade. Cambridge is just to the east."

It was dusk, and the yellow glow of light from the windows of the main section of the house was welcoming. The dark bulk of the building stretched left and right, blending into the hedges and grass of the grounds. Lanterns marked either side of the large front doors. Kingsley turned to the aurors. "Thank you, gentlemen. Who's on tonight?"

"We're on until eleven, sir," one of them replied. "Williams and Peterson come on then."

"We'll not likely be that late. I'll let you know when we're ready."

"Yes sir. Good night 'til then, sir." The two aurors headed for their rounds about the grounds.

Kingsley led the way up to the entryway. He stopped at the doors, his hand on the handle. "Grangers, I welcome you to Shacklebolt Manor," he said formally. There were a couple of clicks then a final soft clunk. He opened the doors and led them inside, closing the door with another set of clicks. The entry hall reached the ceiling of the house, with stairs leading up ahead of them to the second story, then splitting left and right to the third story. The floor was of local dark stone, cut and polished smooth. The bottom part of the walls was paneled in rich wood. Above the chair rail was wallpaper in a deep green with gold fleur-de-lis. Benches and portraits, none currently moving, were in between the doors on each side of the entry way.

A stately woman, only slightly shorter than Kingsley, and with skin nearly as dark, appeared through the farther door on the right. "Welcome, guests," she said.

"Hermione, Dr. Granger, Dr. Granger, my wife Theresa. Theresa; Hermione, Robert and Helen Granger."

She smiled and shook their hands in greeting. "It's a pleasure to meet you all. You must be exhausted. I tried to tell Kingsley it was too much for one day, but to no avail. Dinner will be ready shortly, but I thought we would take tea in the sitting room, if you wished."

Mrs. Granger nodded appreciatively. "That would be wonderful."

"This way, then," she said and led them through the first door on the right. "I can take your coats, and you can make yourself comfortable." The wood and green theme continued into the sitting room. The ceiling was beam and panel in white. A small fireplace was centered between windows on the right. Two couches and a love seat were arranged around a coffee table in front of the fireplace. Bookshelves covered the far wall, a mix of magical and popular non-magical books arranged neatly on them. Hermione took the far couch, her parents the nearest. Kingsley settled into the love seat as Theresa returned with a well-used tea kettle and large ceramic mugs on a wooden tray.

"Here we are." She poured out five cups. "In general, we're not very formal, so please help yourself to cream and sugar."

Hermione sat back and sipped her tea with a contented sigh. Kingsley chuckled. "I agree. It was a long day," he said, sipping his own tea. "I'm sure all of you have questions from today. Feel free to ask anything you want. As I am not your prospective employer I am less restricted in what I can say, and I am sure Mr. and Mrs. Granger will have many questions about the Ministry in general."

Mr. Granger cleared his throat. "As a matter of fact, I do. All of you, the Prime Minister, you, Mr. Weasley, have made a point of telling us how much things have changed for the better. Does that mean you recognize how bad things actually were, both for Hermione and us, as well as non-magical parents in general?"

Kingsley smiled tightly. "Ah, right to the heart of the matter. The simple answer is yes, yes I do. And so do many of the current members of government. Part of my job today is to apologize to you, both as the parents of Hermione specifically, and as first born parents. So, on behalf of the Ministry of Magic, I apologize to you Robert, and you Helen, both for how poorly you were integrated into the magical world as parents of a magical child, and for what Hermione went through and had to do. It's no excuse, but I did explain how things ended up the way they were."

Mr. Granger let out a great breath and nodded his head, partly in acceptance of the apology, partly acknowledging the vagaries of history. "About bloody time. We've waited years for something like that. We honestly didn't ever expect one."

"Robert, language."

"Helen, this whole culture believes us beneath them. We send our children off at eleven and that's basically the end of it. We can't visit them, can't go anywhere there's magic, we have no rights at all. They break their rules on magic and _we_ get our memories obliterated or whatever."

"Robert.."

"Fine. I'll just focus on the big stuff. Minister, how many non-magical people were killed by your lot in this little war of yours?"

"I'm not sure, around two hundred or so over the whole timespan."

"The fact that you don't know is disappointing. Their names on that marble column of yours?"

"Um, no."

"Anyone in _either_ government apologize to them?"

"No."

"Give reparations?"

"The Statutes—"

"Have helped create this whole mindset. It's one thing to think 'we would really like to apologize to them because they deserve it but we can't because of the Statutes of Secrecy' and entirely another to go 'oops,' obliterate and move on without a second thought because they don't deserve that second thought. How would you like it if your wife were killed by robber or terrorist or even just run over by a bus and the government's response was 'it's just better if you never mentioned her existence ever again?' Or worse yet, say 'we know who killed your wife, but we can't tell you?' You have amazingly creative and powerful ways to keep your secrets, but no ways at all to broach them when needed. And not because it's not possible, but because you haven't thought you even needed to try."

"Robert, that's really enough."

"It's quite alright, Ms. Granger. Robert is in fact, perfectly correct. And as many changes as we have made, he points out several changes that we still need to make. I will bring up the apology/reparations idea with my counterparts, and am frankly embarrassed that we haven't thought of that before. That deserves its own apology. I will say there has not been a need to obliviate anyone in several years."

"As far as how first born children and their families are treated and integrated, those changes have been in place for a few years and are working well. But by the time we got things all put back together, we knew you didn't really want to hear from us. So we have been patiently waiting."

Mr. Granger grimaced. "Point taken. So what exactly has changed?"

"Hermione has most of the information, both the public and the internal executive summary, in the packet that Arthur gave her. But I can go over the highlights."

Mr. Granger nodded for him to go ahead.

"First, parents are notified much earlier if their children are magical, sometimes even before the first bout of accidental magic, and home visits from someone from the Ministry happen frequently and upon request. This saves years of worry on the parents' part, and saves the child from all sorts of problems. We were sadly astounded at what some of the children went through, sad both because of what happened and that we never really took note before. In the extreme, children were abandoned to orphanages or mental hospitals in the not too distant past. Now we can arrange for support, fostering, or even adoption if the parents just can't cope or for other reasons."

"Second, parents are brought to Hogwarts for orientation with their children well before school starts, and can visit on several weekends spaced throughout the year. It's not the big dark hole that it was before."

"Third, magic is now allowed at home for all students, not just those from magical families. The whole underage magic statute was never enforced for magical households because any detected magic was always attributed to an adult, so no one really checked for years. As a result, only firstborns were prohibited from doing magic while underage."

"This last item affected your family significantly, I think. Hermione was telling you about the magic she was doing, but couldn't ever show you. And just when she could have started showing you under the old rules is when the war, for lack of a better word, broke out. So your first actual experience with magic was waking up in Australia and your daughter telling you of magical battles, destruction, and mayhem. Ninety percent of all magic is really household and commercial stuff. Cooking dinner, cleaning, fixing things, healing, making life easier or more comfortable, basic charms. The bulk of the rest is research, or industrial, or in hospital. You've just never seen any of it. My advice to you, and my hope, is that you let Hermione start using magic at home. Cutting veg for dinner or cleaning a stain out of the carpet or fixing a broken mug is not dangerous, and hopefully soon you will just view it as an everyday occurrence. The biggest problem you're supposed to have is remembering not to do it in front of the neighbors."

Mr. and Mrs. Granger looked at each other. She had a small hopeful smile on her face. Mr. Granger was not convinced. "We'll have to talk about it, along with all the other things."

Kingsley nodded again. "At least consider apparation. Hermione could be home every night for dinner and back to Oxford for bed, instead of just the odd weekend. It would save her several hundred pounds a year in fares as well. Most magical students live at home and apparate to school for lecture."

He turned to Hermione. "You know the apparation point?"

She nodded hesitantly. "Alcove in the northwest corner of the Divinity School courtyard, behind the Bodleian Library?"

Her parents looked at her. "Well, the sound is rather distinctive, and I pass by there at least once a week. And the protective spells don't keep me from hearing it or knowing about it."

Kingsley nodded. "That's the spot. Though as you have your own room at St. Catherine's, you can apparate out from there as long as you put up a silencing charm first."

Kingsley and Hermione looked at her parents again. "We'll discuss it," said Mr. Granger again.

Hermione felt a change in topic was a good idea. "You said this was Shacklebolt Manor?" Kingsley nodded. "How long has it been in the family?"

Shacklebolt smiled. "My ancestors were traders on the Mediterranean Sea. After the last of the Crusades, some of them followed the English here, and set up shop. In the early 1600s one of them bought a small country estate." He gestured at the room around them. "It's been in the family ever since, slowly growing and expanding. The Ministry does provide a house for the Minister, but we like it here, and only use the official residence for meetings or formal affairs."

Hermione turned to Theresa, who had been quiet this whole time, other than to pour out tea. "Do you come from a traditional magical family as well?"

Theresa laughed. "How politely phrased. No. I'm non-magical. My parents are secondary school teachers."

"And what do you do?" asked Mrs. Granger.

"I have a PhD in biochemistry. I work for one of the pharmaceutical companies on drug resistance pathways in bacteria, developing new antibiotics."

All the Grangers' eyebrows went up at this.

Theresa laughed again. "I know, it's not what anyone expects."

"Well, you're right about that. The obvious questions would be how did you two meet with such different backgrounds, and how did you adjust to being in the magical world?" said Mrs. Granger.

"The meeting part is easy. We met at a pub in central London." She smiled at her husband. "At first I thought he was just a government hack. Then he told me he worked security, so then I thought he was a hack and a thug." Kingsley laughed. "His science background was pathetic, but his knowledge of history and philosophy was amazing, so we managed to make it to the third date. It was downhill from there."

"And the magic?"

"That was actually easy at first. He tricked me."

"Tricked you, how?"

"It wasn't a trick," Kingsley protested.

"Was too. Now hush, the women are talking." Hermione and her mum laughed at this. Mr. Granger actually smiled.

"Several months later, I had him over for dinner, and we got into a philosophical debate about how much was known versus unknown, and the tendency of people throughout history to label anything they didn't understand as magic. I admitted that we certainly didn't know or couldn't explain everything, then he shows me a few simple magic tricks. I thought he was just having me on, then he turned my coffee table into Labrador retriever."

"How'd that go over?"

"Ha! I screamed and nearly wet myself. It took a lot of fast talking on his part before I calmed down enough to be conversant again. He offered to bring me here, and I had already been wondering why I hadn't seen his place yet. My head was spinning so much I hardly noticed the apparation, but that clinched it. It was clear that magic was real and I was dating a wizard type hack and thug. A few more hours of discussion and I could start to forgive the whole keeping secrets from me thing. After that, it was pretty easy for a while. He was still Kingsley, and all the magic was new and exciting. It was actually harder to adjust to him being high up in government than it being the government for the magical world."

"You said it was easy at first?"

"Yes. Things really weren't that different. Magic was just a little added twist, but we still had to get up and go to work every day. Mostly it was the little things. I could skip the dry cleaner's because magic could clean spots faster and quicker for example. Once we were engaged and I was planning on moving in here, I really started to notice the absence of electricity, and the phone, and especially the internet. I needed it for work. He grew up without all those things and didn't see why I needed them. Kingsley could just pop into London for work, but for me it's an hour commute either home or to a floo I can access. And if he's gone, I couldn't do the patronus thing to get him a message. So we compromised."

"How so?"

"We had electricity run in, parts of the house wired, phone and internet put in."

Mr. Granger laughed. "I'm familiar with that type of compromise."

Mrs. Granger elbowed him in the ribs. "Be nice."

The Shacklebolts laughed. "It made sense once she explained it to me," said Kingsley. "Now that I have phone and email at my office, I couldn't do without it. We did forgo TV, though. Enough for the children to do without it."

Hermione looked surprised at this. "I didn't know you had kids."

Theresa smiled. "Yes. Rebecca is nine, and David is seven. They're with a sitter in their wing for the evening, but they were hoping to meet you if that was alright."

Hermione was confused. She was a guest in their house, after all. "Of course that's alright."

"Thank you. They'll be thrilled."

"Do you know if they are Hogwarts bound, someday?"

"Yes, they're both magical. I'm frequently tempted to quit my current job and start studying the genetics of magic. As far as I know, no one has done that yet."

Hermione was instantly intrigued. "I guess I'm not surprised that it hasn't been done before, but it seems it really should be done." She looked at Kingsley. "Is that something the Ministry would fund?"

Kingsley shook his head ruefully. "Not yet. The vast majority of people in the upper levels of the Ministry and on the Wizengamot can't even understand what we're asking for. Arthur is the exception still, not the rule. Some of the few that do understand are strongly opposed to any investigation along these lines. Seems if magic was a simple genetic quirk that just _anyone_ could have..."

Hermione grimaced in understanding. "How've you been able to put up with the attitudes about non-magicals?" she asked Theresa. "I'm sure you must run into it a lot being the Minister's wife."

Theresa laughed. "It's weird. In the non-magical world I'm a science-educated black woman working in a white male dominated field and company. So I'm used to dealing with institutionalized discrimination. In the magical world they don't really care that I'm black, or even female so much, just that I have no magic. My usual reaction if they try to pull the 'pureblood' card is to smile politely and tell them that they aren't nearly as intimidating as my lab manager." Mr. and Mrs. Granger laughed at this.

"If they are veiled or polite about it, I just call them 'quaint' if I want to annoy them. It's much better than it used to be, though. All the hard liners are long gone, the stupid ones declared themselves and are out of government, the smart ones have either figured things out and changed their ways, or are circumspect enough that they're not too unpleasant to deal with. It's really no worse than dealing with management or other departments at work." Hermione watched her parents as Theresa spoke. She was pleased to see that they appeared thoughtful.

"Excuse me sir." A young man in chef whites stood in the doorway. "Millie sends her regards, and the first course is ready."

"Excellent. Thank you, Justin," said Kingsley. Justin nodded and disappeared again. "This way, please," he said, leading the way out of the room. "I know Theresa said we weren't formal, but I'm afraid that our chefs are. Justin is the official Minister's chef, on loan for tonight. Millie is the Shacklebolt family chef. It took a while for them to sort out their working relationship. Millie's in charge here, but she now allows Justin to actually touch the pans and the cooker. Justin is in charge at the Ministry House. Between the two of them we should have a delicious meal."

They passed through a formal dining room and into the back part of the house, and it seemed a few hundred years into the past. The stone cut was rougher, and the wood beams were thick and shiny with age. They appeared to be hand-hewn. "We were barely able to prevail on them to avoid the formal dining room and use the family table. The staff informed us, though, everything else was non-negotiable. My advice is to just enjoy it."

They entered the family dining room. A cheery fire in a large stone fireplace was on the right. A large round wooden table dominated the middle of the room with windows and a door to the outside behind it. A door to the kitchen was on the left. The room was well lit with sconces around the walls and a large chandelier high above the table. The service was china, crystal and silver, and somehow didn't look out of place in the rustic room. The smell from the kitchen was heavenly.

"Please take a seat. Nice thing about a round table is there is no 'head.'"

They sat, Hermione ending up between her father and Kingsley. Her mum and Theresa were next to each other, chatting quietly. Justin appeared again with a bottle of white Zinfandel wine, and poured a small sip for Kingsley. "Excellent, as always," he said, and Justin poured everyone a small glass. "I don't know why he makes me taste it before pouring. He knows far more about wine than I do."

Justin reappeared with a bowl in each hand, followed by a house elf, also in chef whites, her ears poking out through the low white hat, carrying one bowl and levitating two more. "Carrot ginger soup, with garlic curry croutons. Enjoy," said Justin once they were all served.

Mr. and Mrs. Granger watched the elf come and go curiously. They turned to Hermione to ask about him? her? it?, and were surprised to see her glaring at Kingsley. He looked up and followed their eyes. "Hermione?"

"You... have house elves?" she hissed quietly.

Kingsley chuckled, surprising Hermione out of her anger. "Ah, yes. S.P.E.W. Harry told me about that" He raised his hand to keep Hermione from interrupting. "That was Millie, the Shacklebolt head chef. A very free and highly paid, and highly sought after I may add, elf. And yes," he said forestalling her again, "there are other elves here. Some are free and paid, some are not. All according to _their_ choice."

Hermione deflated, blushing slightly. "Sorry. It's just a sore point with me."

"Don't apologize. It's yet another reason we want you back. But you should probably talk with some elves directly before doing anything else. I'm told some of them at Hogwarts still call you the Dark Seamstress." (1) He seemed very amused by this.

"The _what_?"

"Um, the Dark Seamstress. You were knitting hats and leaving them around your tower, yes?

"Yes," she said warily.

"Well, the elves quit coming to clean the tower. Seems they were insulted by your, um, attempts to kick them out of the castle against their will. Eventually only Dobby was willing to go up there. Harry said he had a very nice collection of hats."

"That's not what I was trying to do!"

"We know that. Even the elves know that, now. They appreciate the sentiment. For future reference, however, Dobby was a very unusual elf. Any other elf wouldn't have been the first to take the steps to be free and stay that way."

"Excuse me," interrupted Mrs. Granger, "but what exactly is a house elf?"

"Well, you saw Millie, so that's what they look like in general. As for what they are, that's a little less clear. We've found references about them as far back as the 700s, but no clear record of what they are or where they came from exists as far as I know. They are magical beings, but have no source of magic of their own, so they have to be around witches and wizards as a source of magical fuel as it were. Traditionally, they were 'bound' to a household, and liked larger longstanding manors as the ambient magic was higher. Hogwarts and the Ministry also have enough ambient magic to support them."

"And what's this about clothes?" she asked.

"Traditionally, elves wore scraps of cloth or pillow cases or some-such. Being given clothes was a way of dismissing them from service, and a source of humiliation for the elf. If they did not find another family to take them in, they gradually would waste away."

"That's a rather odd arrangement," said Mr. Granger.

Mr. Granger snorted. "After all we've seen today, that's the first thing you decide is odd?"

The Shacklebolts laughed and Mrs. Granger tried to explain herself. "Well, the rest of today made some sort of sense once it was explained, but this… Is there a specific reason you use clothes as a way of firing someone?" she asked Kingsley.

He looked thoughtful for a moment. "Now that you mention it, I don't know. It's just one of those things that are and always have been. It does seem kind of odd, now that I stop and think about it."

"See," Mrs. Granger said, poking her husband.

"Hey! I didn't say it wasn't weird, it's just the last in a long series of weirdness of today."

"But Millie is wearing a chef's uniform, how is that not the same as being fired?" asked Mrs. Granger.

"Dressing appropriately for your work is OK, being handed clothes is like being told to pack up and leave. As I said, I don't know how that came about."

Hermione was sitting quite still, hands in her lap, looking down.

"Hermione?" asked her mother. "What's wrong?"

"I wasn't trying to kick them out of the castle, I was trying to help," she said softly.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Hermione," Kingsley said. "I got distracted. The elves know you were only trying to help. Give yourself a break, you were what, fourteen, fifteen at the time?" She nodded. "Besides, elves are pretty powerful. You couldn't really cause them any harm. Despite the rough beginnings, your efforts paid off. Starting with Dobby and eventually Winky as the examples, it is now very trendy to have a free elf working for you. Shows you are a 'good' family. Elves won't work for you if you're mean to them."

Hermione looked up. "What about the ones that aren't free?"

"For the most part, they have the choice now, and many don't take it. Too much change too soon, or they don't feel they need to be freed. But a steady trickle continue to choose, and very few families deny them the choice."

"Can't you legislate something?"

"You mean free them all, whether they wanted it or not?"

"Yes…. I mean no…"

"Gets tricky pretty quick, doesn't it?"

"Humph."

"We tried drafting some new laws, but got tangled up in the wording. Who wanted to be freed, who didn't, how could we tell, etc. Couldn't come up with a final bill, and it wouldn't have passed anyway. Too radical for some, not radical enough for others. Never would have had enough support to pass. Fortunately in this case the popular trend took over and the free market seems to be solving the problem. We decided to let the elves sort out the details, then formalize it into law with a few extra protections as needed. Hopefully by then it'll pass without a fuss as being seen as self-evident."

Hermione looked mollified. "Alright, then."

"Now try your soup, it's good."

Hermione took a spoonful of soup, and it was good. Very good. It was quiet as everyone else was eating too.

As soon as the last person had the last of their soup, Millie swooped through the room levitating the bowls and spoons away, and headed back into the kitchen. Moments later, Justin and Millie brought out the salad.

"Mixed bitter and sweet greens, with apple, red onion, dried cranberry, toasted walnut and a balsamic vinaigrette. Savory accompaniment on the side. Enjoy."

Hermione tasted her salad. It was a wonderful mix of flavors, bitter and sweet and tangy. Around the edge of the plate were narrow slices of various cheeses; parmesan, Stilton, white cheddar and a Swiss, and two small pieces of smoked fish. Such simple things, put together in such a delicious combination.

"So which chef made which dish?" asked Hermione.

"This is Millie's kitchen," said Theresa, "so she made the main course. Justin did the soup, salad and dessert. If there is a function at the Ministry House, things are reversed. They work very well together."

"I'll say," said Mr. Granger, "this is delicious."

"Millie is very proud of her work. She and the other elves grew the salad greens, onion, and carrots in the garden, and the apples in the orchard. The ginger is from the greenhouse. The vegetables in the main course were grown here too."

"That's quite an operation," said Mrs. Granger.

"The elves wanted to garden, and love doing it, and Millie turns it into such wonderful meals for everyone. I feel guilty sometimes as all I do is eat the results, but the elves say they have all they need."

Millie and Justin entered again, Millie gathering the plates, Justin serving a small scoop of raspberry sorbet. This did not take long to disappear, either.

Justin came to clear the dishes, then followed Millie back out with the main course and baskets of bread. "Lamb Osso Bucco with mint gremolata and a lamb demi-glace. Potatoes Anna with sage. Roasted asparagus and carrots with bacon, almonds and blue cheese," announced Millie in her high pitched voice. "Petite apple and lamb Yorkshire pudding. Enjoy."

Hermione was in heaven. The lamb was fall apart tender, the vegetables were delicious, and the potatoes were crispy on the outside and buttery on the inside. The puddings were warm and creamy on the inside, savory from the lamb with little bits of sweet apple. It was easily the best meal she'd ever had. What little talk there was around the table echoed her thoughts.

Justin and Millie came to gather plates again, then reemerged with Justin's desert. "Roasted whole pear with a rum and cracked pepper caramel sauce, and vanilla ice cream. Enjoy." Desert was as good as the other courses. Hermione savored each bite, and finally sat back, pleasantly full.

Mrs. Granger finished off her plate and sighed contentedly. "That was delicious. Do you eat like this every night?"

"Oh, heavens, no," said Theresa. "This is a very special occasion. Millie is an excellent chef so every meal is delicious, but we never have multiple courses for our daily family dinners."

Justin and Millie gathered the last of the plates, then came back out with a cart with coffee and tea service and two carafes. "Justin, Millie, you have outdone yourselves. That was delicious," said Kingsley. Everyone else added their appreciation

Justin and Millie smiled and in unison gave a small bow. "It was our pleasure," said Justin. "Italian dark roast coffee or ginger green tea," said Millie. "I would recommend Madam's sitting room again."

Hermione felt a need to thank the elf personally. "Millie, dinner was wonderful, thank you."

Millie turned and stared at Hermione, her expression blank. Hermione gulped, suddenly afraid that she had insulted the elf somehow, or that the elves were still mad at her. Millie's head tilted slightly, and other elves started appearing with small 'pops' until there were nearly a dozen ranged in an arc around her. All were dressed impeccably in various uniforms. All stared at her with the same neutral gaze. She looked back at Mille, starting to panic.

Millie bowed, and the other elves followed suit. "It was a pleasure to serve The Dark Seamstress."

Hermione blanched further and tried to stammer an apology.

Millie suddenly smiled a wide smile, mirrored by all the other elves. "Do not worry, Miss Granger. We have waited long to meet you, and it is an honour to have you at our home, and to serve you in this small way. The Shacklebolt elves, free or not, are respected, and wear hats as recognition of that respect." She patted her chef hat. Hermione now noted that all of them had some sort of hat or other head covering, their ears poking out under or through them. "Your intent, while misguided, was good, and has borne fruit in wonderful and unexpected ways. Your efforts against the Dark One will be remembered always. On behalf of all the elves of Britain, you have our thanks." Millie and all the elves bowed deeply again, before rising and popping away.

Theresa broke the astonished silence. "Well, that was unexpected."

"Now you know how we feel," muttered Mr. Granger.

The Shacklebolts laughed and Mrs. Granger elbowed Mr. Granger in the ribs again.

Justin cleared his throat. "Coffee and tea, Minister?"

"Ah, yes. Sorry, Justin. Shall we?" he asked indicating the way back to the sitting room.

They sat in the same seats as before and Justin poured. After he left, Mrs. Granger noticed that Hermione was withdrawn. "You alright there, pumpkin?"

She gave a small smile. "I'm good, just thinking about the elves."

"Hmm, yes," said Kingsley. "I will have to talk with them a bit."

"What about?" asked Hermione, worried.

"Oh, nothing untoward, don't worry. I just need to find out more about the hat thing." Hermione blushed faintly. "If they all truly choose to wear hats as a sign of being respected, it would be an easy way of checking on their working conditions. Just get into the house for whatever reason, then see how an elf is dressed. I wonder why they didn't say anything before?"

"Did anyone think to ask?" asked Hermione.

Kingsley laughed at his own obtuseness. "I'm sure no one has, and that just goes to show you how your world view can blind you, despite your best intentions. I'll have to have several long chats with Arthur and some elves, I think."

Hermione smiled again. "Good."

An elf in a blue dress and matching kerchief on her head popped in next to Theresa. "Excuse me, ma'am," she said quietly.

"Yes, Hollie?"

"Young David and Rebecca were hoping to meet Miss Granger before bed, ma'am."

Theresa looked over at her. "Is that alright, Hermione?"

"Of course, that's fine. I'd be delighted."

"Are they done with their studies, Hollie?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Then bring them down for a few minutes."

"Thank you, ma'am."

Momentarily Hollie led David in by his hand, followed by Rebecca. They stopped by their mother. Each had a hand behind their back.

"What have you got there, children?" asked Theresa.

David mumbled something, Rebecca just blushed.

"What's that?" asked Theresa, leaning over to David.

He whispered something into her ear. Hermione thought she heard the word 'book'.

Theresa looked behind David's back. "Now, children, it would be rude to ask when you don't know her. Hand them over." She took the book from behind David. Rebecca clutched hers to her chest. Theresa held out her hand and waited. Rebecca gave her book to her mother. Hermione recognized copies of the same 'Dark Lord' book that Kingsley had given her earlier.

Theresa stood, put the books on her chair, and guided them over to their guests. "Now then. Rebecca, David, this is Dr. Robert Granger, Dr. Helen Granger, and Ms. Hermione Granger. Grangers, this is Rebecca and David, who I am certain remember how to greet guests."

They evidently did, as they lost their shyness and politely shook hands and said "Nice to meet you" to all of them, before retreating to back beside their mother's chair.

Hermione leaned over to her small stack of belongings from the day and retrieved her own copy of their book. "You have this book, too?" They nodded and smiled. "I haven't read it before, I just got mine today from your father. Is it good?"

Rebecca looked confused. "You have to of read it before. You're in it."

David added, "It's awesome! At least the battle parts are. And the dragon!"

"Well, I've been away at school, so I didn't know about it. My friend Padma wrote it, and she knew what happened then. You think I'll like it?"

Nodding, the children came over to point out their favorite parts. David knew exactly which page the dragon was on.

Theresa interrupted them before they could tell Hermione the whole book. "Alright children, that will have to do. Once she's read it, I'm sure she can talk to you more about it. But it's time to get ready for bed."

Both Mr. and Mrs. Granger smiled at the nearly universal "Aw, mum" that resulted.

Rebecca turned back to Hermione. "Will you sign our books?"

"Rebecca, what did I say?"

"But we know her now, mum."

"It's fine, Ms. Shacklebolt, really." She looked back down at the kids. "But only if you sign mine."

Their eyes got big. "But we're not famous," said Rebecca.

Hermione struggled with what to say. "You might be someday. I certainly wasn't famous when I was your age. Maybe I just want to get your autograph before anyone else."

They grabbed their books, Rebecca getting a biro from a drawer. Hermione opened their books to the title page and stopped. "I see that you already got some signatures in yours." They nodded excitedly. Harry had written 'Wands ready!' over his signature and Ron had scribbled 'Study hard!' over his. Hermione snorted quietly at the irony. She thought for a moment, then wrote 'Look to do what's right' over her signature in both.

She handed their books back. "Alright, now you," she said, holding out her book. David in very careful printing wrote 'I love dragons!' and his name. Rebecca wrote 'Thank you Miss Granger' in nice cursive and signed her name. Hermione smiled at them both. "Perfect. Thank you very much."

With polite 'good nights' the two were led off by Hollie and Theresa for bed. Theresa reappeared a few moments later. "Hollie will get them ready for bed and get them reading. We'll tuck them in later."

"Would Hermione face a lot of that if she were to work for the Embassy?" asked Mr. Granger. "It's just hard to think of her as famous." Hermione couldn't tell if he was trying to get used to the idea or gathering ammunition as to why it would be a bad idea to come back.

Kingsley was thoughtful for a moment. "A little, I think, for a while. Not as bad as it would have been several years ago. Harry went into hiding for a while, then came to work for the government, so can still keep out of the public eye. Ron went into quidditch, playing for the Cannons, and seems to enjoy the popularity so it's never been an issue. There might be an initial kerfuffle, but the Ministry employees are professionals, so it would quiet down quickly." Mr. Granger nodded.

"On the other hand," Kingsley continued, "Rebecca and David could probably fund their education at Oxford if they were to put the books Hermione just signed up for auction, given that there are only the two in existence with her signature alongside Ron and Harry's."

Mr. and Mrs. Granger nearly spilled their coffee at that. "You're serious?" asked Mrs. Granger.

"It's possible. A few years from now, after Hermione has been seen out and about on a daily basis and the novelty has worn off, they wouldn't be worth nearly as much. Today though, they would be exceedingly valuable."

Her parents stared at her, apparently as surprised as she was. Hermione wondered why it was this more than anything else that drove home her celebrity status. "Now I know how Harry felt," she muttered.

Kingsley laughed. "He sends his greetings, by the way. Unfortunately, he's working this and the next couple of weekends, otherwise we would have offered to arrange a meeting, if you wanted."

Hermione was simultaneously excited and nervous about the possibility of seeing Harry, sad that he wasn't available, and worried about how her parents would react to the thought of her meeting Harry again. She tried to keep a neutral expression on her face. "I'm sure something could be arranged in the future, if needed."

Kingsley, watching her closely, merely said "Of course."

He continued. "Speaking of weekends, I'm hoping you will all come to the match. I assume Hermione has told you about quidditch before?" He saw Hermione smile at the mention of quidditch.

"The World Quidditch Federation has graciously allowed Britain to host the World Cup again, and the Final is on Saturday after next. The Prime Minister and I will be there, and we have some other VIPs coming to watch. One of them is hoping to speak to Hermione for a bit, other than that it would be low key, we just thought you would enjoy seeing it. You would be taken directly to the box, and back home afterwards, so you won't have to deal with the crowds or anything."

Mr. Granger looked at his wife and daughter. Hermione was looking hopeful, his wife had a small smile on her face. He was not ready to promise anything however, today had been enough. More than enough. "We'll think about it."

"Well, you have the number for my office, or the Prime Minister, so just call and let us know. But now it's late, and we should get you all home."

They stood and went to the entryway, Hermione gathering her books. Elves were waiting, holding their coats, the two Aurors waiting by the door.

"Mr. Granger, Mrs. Granger, thank you so much for coming to dinner," said Theresa. "I know today was difficult for you, but it was a pleasure meeting you both. I do hope that we could host you again someday soon."

"Dinner was wonderful, Theresa," said Helen. "It would be lovely to do this again, but there's a lot that we have to think about and discuss as a family first."

"Of course."

"Hermione, it was an honour to meet you. Good luck with your work at Oxford."

"Thank you, Ms. Shacklebolt."

Kingsley and the two Aurors led the Grangers out to the front walk. "Is it alright if we take you directly home?" asked Kingsley. At Mr. Granger's nod, he added "I have to show these two how to get there, then we can take you." He turned to Hermione. "The back patio still a good place to appear?"

She thought about it for a moment. "Yes, the middle is clear."

The two Aurors held on to Kingsley's arms and they all disappeared with a loud 'pop'."

Mr. Granger looked at Hermione suspiciously. "How does he know about our back patio?"

"There was lots to arrange for me to be able to go to Australia on short notice. He came to the house a few times, delivering documents and travel arrangements."

Mr. Granger frowned, apparently not pleased to be reminded about Australia or to know that someone magical could just 'pop' into his back garden. His reply was interrupted by Kingsley and the Aurors reappearing in rapid sequence. Kingsley held out his arm to Mrs. Granger. "Shall we?"

"Thank you, kind sir," she said smiling, and they disappeared.

"Is this a good idea after a large dinner?" Mr. Granger asked the Auror who had offered up his arm.

"A little queasy is the worst I would expect, sir,"

"Well, it's either this or walk, I suppose," and they disappeared as well, Hermione and her Auror following moments later.

They appeared in a rapid series of pops on the back patio of the Grangers' home. The two Aurors each gave a quiet 'good night' and apparated away.

"Mr. Granger, Mrs. Granger, it was a pleasure to meet you, and I'm very pleased you came to dinner, it was a lovely time."

"Yes, it was. Thank you very much, Minister," said Mrs. Granger. Mr. Granger merely said, "Thanks," and went inside.

Shacklebolt sighed quietly. "Hermione, it was good to see you again. I hope things work out well for you. Let us know about the Quidditch match. If you decide to go, we can come get you here at about ten am." Then he too popped away. Mrs. Granger and Hermione went inside, to see Mr. Granger getting a short glass and a whisky bottle from the top cabinet.

"Dad, I—"

"Hermione, it's been a long day, and not at all what I would have planned for my Saturday. Having magic intrude in our lives, unannounced yet again, is something I thought we had put behind us. I'm tired and really don't want to talk about it now. Goodnight." He went up the stairs, and she heard his bedroom door close, not so gently.

Hermione turned her mum, tears in her eyes. The emotional upheavals of the day and her new worries were catching up to her, her father being so blunt just tipped her over the edge. "I just wanted to say I was sorry again. What Major Thomas said got me thinking, and I can see now exactly why you and dad were upset." The tears were flowing freely now. "I just assumed I knew what was best, and I didn't ask you or tell you, and I used magic on you. Dad thinks I'm as bad as the people I was trying to save you from. He's afraid I'll do magic on you again, he's been afraid of me this whole time—"

"Hermione—"

"And he's right, I basically used the equivalent of an unforgivable curse on you, making you do something you didn't want to do, that's evil, people go to magical prison for things like that, I should be in prison, not getting a statue and a job—"

"Hermione—"

"And now I know he's ashamed of me, too. I fought people, hurt people, certainly killed some. I'm a killer, and he doesn't want anything to do with me. I should g-go." She was sobbing now. "I'll call the Prime Minister and let him know I-I won't be taking the job. I'm sorry, mum, I really am—"

"Hermione!" her mum yelled, finally breaking through to her. She was wrapped into a fierce hug, and broke down completely, not capable of words. Her mum led her into the living room and eased her down on the couch. Hermione curled up against her, her tears staining her mum's dress.

Helen sat, rocking her daughter like she hadn't done in years. Despite the fact that her heart was breaking seeing her daughter like this, there was a closeness as well, something they had been missing for a long time. They had been in denial of Hermione's magic for too long, and Hermione had given up a great deal to be with them the past several years. It was time to get through this. It would be unpleasant, but they would be better and stronger for it at the other end.

She hoped.

The 'Dark Seamstress' title for Hermione is taken from _Saying No_, by bob and alyx at bobmin356. Their stories are incredibly inventive and a blast to read.

'A Wrinkle in Time' was written by Madeleine L'Engle, 1962. Publisher is listed as Farrar, Straus and Giroux. Interestingly (as per Wikipedia) it was rejected by 26 publishers before being accepted, after which it went on to win the Newbery Medal.


	6. Chapter 5: After Dinner

Sorry for the delay. Was editing and adding a bit, and ended up with a largely rewritten chapter. Will now have to add a new chapter in between this one and the one that was supposed to be next. As that one was already done, it will need a few edits as well.

Thanks for the reviews! To answer the most common theme: It's been less than 24 hours! Just setting up the big pivot point/crisis in the middle of the story and character arc. Way too soon for Robert to come around and everyone make nice. He's got several years of mindset to overcome. This chapter is the crisis itself, after that begins the resolution.

As always, I don't own the rights, and I am sure the cost to do so is rising much faster than I can keep up with. And as always, it is fun to play on Ms. Rowling's beach. Enjoy

Chapter 5  
>After Dinner <p>

Helen had eventually gotten Hermione calmed down and tucked into bed, apparently willing to stay until morning. She walked down the hall and opened the door into her bedroom. Robert was leaning up against the headboard, still in his clothes, sipping on his whisky. Helen climbed onto her side of the bed and sat cross legged.

"Care to talk?"

"Not really."

"Well, you're going to have to sometime. This all needs to be brought out into the open, we really can't ignore it any longer."

"There's nothing to ignore. Hermione will get her law degree and become a lawyer and get a job and have a normal life. The magical world can keep their bloody noses to themselves and leave us alone. She has no need to be part of that."

"I'm not talking about magic, Robert, I'm talking about your relationship with your daughter. If that's not important enough to you to have a conversation, then maybe she's right and she should leave!"

"Leave? She would leave because we don't let her do magic? She would still choose them over us?"

"Robert, you need to listen. You need to listen to me, and you need to listen to what you're saying. Hermione thinks she needs to leave because you think she's 'evil' and are afraid of what she will do to us.

"I don't think she's evil—"

"I know you don't, but she doesn't, and given her explanation I can see why. She's a fully grown woman, we don't have the right to 'let' or not 'let' her do anything. Our job as parents at this point in her life is to love her and support her and offer advice if she asks for it and hopefully someday watch the grandkids, not tell her what she can and can't do. And she's right, it's not an either or. She's our daughter, and she's magical. Just like she's smart, soon to be a lawyer, has brown eyes and hair that won't behave. She is who she is, and we don't get to pick and choose pieces of her to like. If she wants to work with the magical world or not, or use magic or not, she's still our daughter. Someday soon she is going to have a job and a life of her own, she isn't going to stay here forever. I would like to hope that she'll come visit us, but she needs a better reason than guilt to do it."

"Helen, she put a spell on us. We moved to Australia without knowing it. We didn't even know we had a daughter!"

"Robert, it's not about the magic! It's about trust and communication and forgiveness. I fully recognize she put a spell on us. She violated our trust, but I can see why, and she's sorry, and she knows why she's sorry, which she tried to tell you. Now you need to communicate with her and forgive her."

"You're saying you're alright with what she did to us?"

"No, I'm saying I can forgive her and trust that she won't do anything like that again."

"She could—"

"Robert Granger. It's. Not. About. The. Magic. She'll be a lawyer soon, she could sue us and tie us up in court for years. She's brilliant and home alone here on weekends, she could get all our financial information out of our files and rob us blind. She could take a self defense course at Oxford and kill us in our sleep. She's of age, she could buy a shotgun and shoot us. But she's not, because we're her parents and she loves us and that's not who Hermione is."

"If that's not who she is, then why'd she do that to us?"

"I'll take that question at face value, because if you are trying to imply that you indeed think that's who she is then this conversation will either be way shorter or way longer. I would suggest that you ask her why."

"It doesn't matter why, she did it."

"The why is very important, Robert. You don't have to agree with it, but knowing why is important. And you will have that conversation with her, and have it soon, or you will force her out of our lives."

"Things were just fine until Mr. Emerson showed up. Why do people have to keep dropping into our lives and ruining it?"

"Whether we think our lives are ruined or not is up to us, and I'm starting to think things weren't 'just fine.' A child is the most important thing in a parent's life, and we need to work on our relationship with ours. This is non negotiable, Robert, and long overdue. I don't know what your problem is, and I'm not sure you do either, but the man I married wouldn't hold a grudge this long nor would he be so unwilling to listen. Whatever it is you're hanging on to, it'd better be very important, because it's going to cost you your daughter. I hope it's worth it."

With that she left him to his thoughts and his whisky.

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Hermione woke early on Sunday, despite still feeling exhausted. She had slept poorly, the emotional roller coaster of the day before triggering nightmares she hadn't had in years. Many of them featured her parents' bodies in various numbers of pieces after being tortured to death. For a splendid new twist, more than once she had been one of the ones casting the spells.

She lay in bed, listening. The house was silent, there didn't seem to be anyone up and about yet. She looked at her clock. There was still time to catch the early morning train to London. She got up quietly and dressed quickly, stuffing her dirty clothes and books into her bag and putting her hair up in a pony tail. Cracking her door, she could see the lights were still off and it was still quiet. She went carefully down the stairs and headed for her coat and hat in the entry way.

"Morning, Hermione," her mother said softly from the living room as Hermione passed by.

Hermione jumped, clutching her chest. "Cor, mum, you scared the daylights out of me." Somehow she kept her voice quiet. Her mum was curled up in one of the reading chairs, blanket wrapped around her and a cup of tea in her hand.

"Leaving early?" Her tone was flat and neutral.

"I, er, thought it would be best."

"Less uncomfortable, perhaps, but I don't think it would be for the best."

"Mum?"

"I think it's time, Hermione."

"Mum?"

Her mum stood and put her hands on Hermione's shoulders. "You are a witch. A magical being, among all the other things that you are. Ignoring it won't change anything. You also lived through some horrible times, things no parent wants their child to experience, but you did, and ignoring that can't change anything either. I am ready to face all that with you, and I hope to get your father to as well. It might not be easy, or pleasant, but it needs to be done."

"I don't know if I can do that, mum, he's upset enough as it is. He has all sorts of reasons not to like me and he's still afraid of me—"

"Hermione. I'm sure it's not as bad as all that, and we don't have to solve it all today, just start the process. We can begin with you showing me what the Minister gave you."

Tentatively, Hermione sat on the couch and opened her bag. She pulled out the book on Tom Riddle and gave it to her mum who started flipping through it, and searched for the wrapped book. She pulled it out too and carefully unwrapped it. Despite her mood, she laughed when she saw the title. It was _Practical Household Magic_ by Zamira Gulch.

"What?" her mum asked, looking up.

Hermione gave her mum the book. Helen smiled. "So that's what he meant. Where's your wand?"

Hermione looked shocked. "Mum?"

"Do you still have it? You should try some of this."

"Are you sure, mum?"

"Yes, dear, very sure, now do you still have it?"

Hermione got up and went to the hearth. She grasped her wand and cancelled the sticking charm. As she lifted her wand, she felt a warmth rush up her arm to fill her chest before flowing out to the tips of her fingers, toes and even her hair. She realized it was her magic, coursing through her once again, just as her wand issued a torrent of multi colored sparks. She turned her wrist, changing the sparks to rose petals, and soon the room was covered in a fragrant layer of red, pink, white and yellow.

Her mum sat open mouthed. "Wow." She looked at the kindling can. "It's been there the whole time, getting dusted every other week? How did we not burn it or throw it out?"

Hermione vanished the rose petals, but the fragrance remained. "It was charmed to stick to the can, and for no one to notice it. If you binned the can, it would've been gone, but that didn't really seem to matter at the time."

"Well." Helen flipped through the book and found a chapter on basic cleaning. "Speaking of dusting, can you do this one?"

Hermione was familiar with the spell from trying to clean Sirius' house, seemingly ages ago. With a series of flicks and quiet words the books, shelves, hearth, mantle, table and even fireplace were spotless.

"Wow," said Helen again, admiring the clean room. "I know what you're doing every other weekend."

Hermione laughed. Her mum smiled at the sound. She flipped through the book again and found a chapter on 'the kitchen.' She thrust it at Hermione. "Here, go start a nice full breakfast, whatever you can find in the refrigerator and pantry. Maybe with magic you can actually cook."

"Hey! I'm not that bad." Hermione looked down at her wand in one hand and the book in the other. "Are you sure, mum?" she asked again.

Helen just turned Hermione towards the kitchen and gave her a gentle push. "Go start. I'm going to get your father out of bed."

Hermione stood in the doorway to the kitchen, torn. She could feel her magic zooming up and down her arm to her wand and back, and through the rest of her, like it had been building up for the past several years and wanted to be used. She turned back to look at the stairs her mum has just gone up. She seemed excited about it all, and encouraging. But her father…. Her resolve from yesterday had collapsed by the time she got home, but a spark remained. She took a big breath and skimmed the pages on cooking tips.

Helen went into her bedroom and turned on the lights, then opened the shades. Bob had at least gotten undressed and under the covers, but his clothes were on the floor and the bottle of whisky was three fourths empty.

"Morning, Robert. Time to get up," she said, not trying to be quiet. His only response was to groan and turn over, pulling a pillow over his head. She grabbed the edge of the covers and flung them off the bed. He didn't seem to notice. She went in to take her shower.

Robert was still sleeping, head under the pillow when she was done. She flipped the pillow to the floor, and wrung some water from her hair onto his back. That got him.

"What the—, oh my head." he said clutching it with both hands.

"I find my sympathy quite limited. Get up. Hermione's making breakfast."

"Ugh. That's not really an incentive, you know."

"Well, she got a new recipe book. It might help. You will eat what she makes and be nice about it."

"Yes dear."

Helen ignored the sarcasm and went to her closet. She heard the bathroom door close and the shower start while she was getting dressed. With slightly damp hair she went down to see how Hermione was doing. She stopped at the entry to the kitchen, amazed.

Hermione was actually having fun. Usually she did not enjoy cooking, anything on the cooker tended to burn as she got distracted by other things. She was able to adapt the spells to the non magical controls on the cooker and appliances, and there were timer charms that would give a little chime to remind her to check if something was done or not. Best of all the dishes were washing themselves as she went, rather than ending up as a huge tower in the sink at the end of the meal. She saw her mum in the doorway and flicked her wand at the coffee maker and it clicked on, sent the bacon into the oven to keep warm with the rest of the items. All that was left was to fry the eggs and set the table.

Helen seated herself at the table. "This is marvelous, dear. Are you having fun?"

"Yes, mum. It feels good to use magic again. Are you sure you're okay with this?"

"Don't worry, dear. I am. As Mr. Shacklebolt said, there's nothing dangerous about using magic to cook breakfast. In your case, it appears to be safer than doing it the regular way."

"Mu-um. Really, I'm not that bad."

"Dear, you're famous for cold toast and burnt anything else. So far this morning everything looks good."

"Thanks, mum. You're sure dad will be okay with this?"

"Nope."

"What?"

"I just told him you had a new cookbook. He should be down in a minute."

"Mum, are you mental? What's he going to say? I don't want to make things worse than they already are…"

"I told you, Hermione, this needs to be done. Things may have to get worse before they get better, but we'll get through it. Now just keep going and don't worry."

Hermione conjured a table cloth and sent the dishes, glasses, and silverware from he cupboard to the table. Then she put the heat on under the fry pan, and when it was hot cooked her mum two eggs over easy. She levitated all the food from the oven to the table and served the eggs. The coffee maker gurgled its last and Hermione poured her mum a cup.

As she was sending the coffee carafe back to the maker, her father appeared in the doorway, and seeing the carafe floating through the air and the dishes washing themselves in the sink, let out with "What's all this?"

Hermione let out a small shriek of surprise and lost control of the carafe, which fell to the floor and shattered with a loud crash, splattering hot coffee everywhere.

"Robert!" said Helen loudly.

Robert's only reply was to groan and squeeze his temples together with the palms of his hands at all the noise.

There was a frozen truce as they all stared at each other, Robert and Helen looking angry, Hermione fearful. Helen was the first to recover.

"Well it's your own fault, Robert, for yelling. No, don't move, there's glass and coffee everywhere. Hermione, if you would be so kind?" she asked, indicating the floor.

Hermione started and looked at her mum. Helen just nodded and wiggled her hand in little circles. Hermione gulped and cast _reparo_ on the carafe and sent it back to the coffee maker, then _scourgify_ on the floor and cabinets, removing the coffee.

"Very nice," said Helen. "Now Robert, if you'd like to sit down, Hermione will fry up a couple of eggs while you sample the rest of her creations. She finally managed to not burn anything. You'll have to wait for coffee as I'm not sharing mine."

Hermione busied herself with making a new pot of coffee and cooking eggs for her father and herself. Helen was working her way through a large plate of food, trying a little of everything. Robert was sticking with water, finding himself rather thirsty and not yet ready for food. Hermione floated two eggs to each of her and her father's plate and sat down. The coffee maker bubbled along, seeming to be louder than usual.

"Hermione, this is the best you've ever cooked," said Helen, nearly done with her first plate.

"Thanks, mum," she said, quietly.

"Dear, you should have something to eat. Start with toast, at least. It's not like it's contaminated or anything."

Robert took a small bit of toast, then tossed it down to his plate. "We had a deal."

Hermione flinched slightly, still looking down. Helen put a hand on hers reassuringly. "True, but apparently based on incomplete, a bit inaccurate, and more importantly now outdated information. The magical world does not seem to be the perilous cesspool it was before, and denying Hermione her magic is no longer appropriate. She's an adult, and a witch. Magic is part of her, and it's not our place to forbid it."

"Decided that, have you?"

"_We_ are discussing it, as a family, now."

"Fine. As you said last night, it's not about the magic."

Hermione looked up in shock. "Then what—"

Robert held up his hand. "It's what the magic does. It gives people, no matter how otherwise incapable they are, great power, and as the saying goes, corrupts them. They think themselves better than anyone without magic because they can always just whip out their wand. They have no need for learning, or ethics, or morals, or decency. They can get what they want when they want it with no consequences at all. It's even built into their laws. They even have a governmental department devoted to wiping the memories of the rest of us if they mess up. Hell, if that Voldemort person was just slightly more patient and less crazy, he could have gotten _elected_ into power. His supporters ran the parliament and the only paper, and seemed to have most of the money. It seems that it's only because he riled up everyone by killing people who didn't agree with him that anyone stood up to him at all."

Hermione was stunned. All the new things she thought her father thought of her were rather bad, but this was far worse. His assessment of Voldemort and his supporters wasn't that far off, but to lump her in with _them_…. Hermione felt an anger building like she hadn't felt for years.

"You're comparing me to _them_? They _hated_ me. I was an affront to them just by being _born_, this whole family was marked for death just by my very existence. I'm sorry I didn't tell you everything that was going on. I'm sorry I didn't try to convince you to leave the country on your own. I know what I did was wrong in taking your choice away, and I won't do it again. I think I have learned and grown since then, and certainly the world is a much less dire place. I can't believe that that one decision outweighs in your mind everything else about me before and since."

'No, I don't think you're like them. But it was my job as a parent to raise and protect you, and that includes from the obviously bad influence of magic."

Hermione felt a small _snap_ within her, and her anger bubbled up further. "Fine. Let's go back in time, then. I'm sixteen, and home from school. I tell you there's a civil war going on, and you, mum and I are specifically named as targets because I'm born of non magical people, a friend of Harry Potter, and do better in school than all the spawn of the bad guys. I tell you it's not safe for you to stay here, and you need to leave the country. I tell you I can't go with you because I'm one of three people who know how to kill the immortal bad guy leading the other side. What do you do?"

"We keep you home, of course, away from it all."

"Fine. Six months later, Aurors from the Ministry appear in the living room and arrest us all for stealing magic from some poor pureblood and giving it to me, as it's clearly impossible for non magical folk as yourself to have a magical child. We're taken to the Ministry, 'questioned,' then sent to an internment camp. Or at least you are. I deserve special treatment because there's a price on my head and I can be used as bait for Harry. Once he's captured, we're all put to death in front of him, just to help break him."

"Surely that wasn't—"

"I went to more than one funeral for people treated just like that, and broke people out of the Ministry from a hearing just like that."

"You can't know that that would have happened to us."

"True, not ahead of time. But it is quite likely that it would have. But only if the government got to us first. If the Deatheaters got to us first, which is actually more likely, they would have shown up around our house at night, spelled the doors and windows shut, put up wards to block apparation and portkeys and set the house on fire. If I was home at the time I could try to put the fire out, and put a pocket of air around our heads to breathe, but eventually we would all burn to death. Heck, they might put a pocket of air around us themselves just to make sure our deaths were long and painful."

Her anger grew, and she decided not to pull any punches. "And that's just the basic treatment, just to show others that they shouldn't resist. Being marked for special treatment, or if someone needed _initiation_ into their ranks, they would appear in the living room, stick you to the wall, paralyze me and mum, do rather unspeakably bad things to us in front of you for a few hours, then put the _Imperious_ on you and make you cut us up while still alive before killing you in some rather drawn out and excruciating way."

Her father was pale with either fear, or anger, or both. "You can't know that would have happened."

"I had heard rumors of such thing by then, which I later found out to be true. But I knew that they were truly evil, I knew they had killed lots of people especially people like us, and that they would be after me specifically."

"Fine. We leave the country, then."

"Fine." She was nearly yelling by now, tears running down her cheeks. "Then I'm not here to help Ron and Harry, they fail in their mission, Voldemort takes over Britain, and just because he _is_ crazy and likes to kill people, sends people to track us down and we still die in some appalling way. The only difference being we die after Britain falls, instead of before."

"I was sixteen, and scared, and didn't want you to be hurt or killed because you had absolutely no way to defend yourselves at all. I knew you would be upset, but better you alive and mad at me than tortured to death." She stood from her chair. "So be upset at me all you want, hate me for my magic all you want, but don't you ever, _ever_, compare me to them again."

Sobbing, Hermione summoned her things from the entryway and turned in place, disappearing with a quiet 'pop'.

"Hermione!—"


	7. Chapter 6: Aftermath and Interludes

A/N: At last. The last chapter went in a very different direction than originally started, requiring this entirely new chapter, and several changes to the next one which I will be making this week. But I think I like how it turned out. The rest of the story is 90% done, so I really hope to get it all posted this week.

To all the followers and reviewers, thanks! Especially to Brian1972. He is the most critical of the critics, but he always says _why_ in detail, and this is a great help. In general, Robert has only had 24 hours to come to grips with all this, please be patient with him. This chapter is his character arc and development.

I am embarrassed to say firearm laws in Britain is one of the few things I didn't research in detail as I was only going to mention it in passing, and I got caught out. I knew hand guns were a no-go, but I figured a country with such a long history and tradition of hunting (longer than my country has been a country…) would have a rather straightforward way of getting a rifle or shotgun. My apologies, and I have since researched it, but it's still possible (and would be faster than her learning a martial art) so I'll leave it in. And no, you don't seem to be able to keep firearms on the Oxford campus.

As always, I don't own the rights to any of the Harry Potter characters, places, or concepts, and it is unlikely I ever will. My thanks to Ms. Rowling for allowing us to continue to play on her beach.

Chapter 6: Aftermath and Interludes

Helen finally broke the silence. "Well, that went well."

Robert glared at her. "I could do without the sarcasm."

"Fine, I'll be perfectly serious. I think that went rather well."

"What? How could you possibly think this all this was remotely good?"

"Things have needed to be said for a long time, and now they're finally said. Though comparing Hermione to something like the SS or Hitler was probably a bit much."

"I did not!"

"You did, actually. You lumped Voldemort and his followers in with those fighting him as they all have magic, then Hermione with them as she does too, implying that she was corrupted by the power of magic and being bereft of, um, 'ethics, morals, and decency' I think you said. The 'otherwise incapable' comment probably didn't help, either."

Robert groaned again and put his face in his hands. "That's not what I meant and you know it."

"No, I don't. I think that's part of the problem. You're not sure what you mean. You have a bunch of tangled up unpleasant emotions about the whole thing and haven't got them sorted out. It's not fair to Hermione, or me, that you're taking it out on her rather than getting them sorted. So we're going to get them sorted, then you and Hermione are going to get sorted. But we can't go on like we have been. Even if our deal was right at the time, it's not anymore."

"So, what, we just look in the phone book for a counselor that specializes in magical war survivor family issues?"

"Now who's being sarcastic?"

Robert had the grace to be embarrassed. "Sorry."

"I liked Major Thomas. Being a non-magical, he's had to deal with all this, and the military must have some method of treating PTSD and the like."

"I'm not sure I want a stranger in our family issues."

"Dear, I'm sure he knows more about all of this than we do. Hermione has her own statue, for heaven's sake. I flipped through that book on Voldemort this morning, she has a whole page of references in the index and her own appendix. I know she's told us of what went on, but we're still really strangers to it all. Major Thomas has been immersed in all of this for years. I think he could help."

Robert sighed. "I'll think about it."

"Well, while you're thinking about it, I'm going to call him."

"I said I'm not sure I want a stranger in our family business."

"You don't have to talk to him yet if you don't want to. But that doesn't stop me from doing so."

"Helen—"

"Robert—" she replied, mocking him. "No, this isn't pleasant, or comfortable. But our daughter just disappeared out of our kitchen convinced her father thinks she's evil and corrupted by magic. And no, she didn't choose magic over us, she thinks her parents would choose not to have her in their lives because she's magical. I think she's worth whatever unpleasantness we have to go through to get her back. Don't you?"

"Yes, of course I do."

"Well then, I'm calling Major Thomas. Better a large filling now than a root canal later. You can talk to him whenever you're ready, but I'm ready now."

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Hermione appeared with a soft 'pop' in her room at Catz. A small part of her was relieved she arrived intact or at all, as she hadn't apparated in years and she certainly hadn't been 'deliberate' about what she was doing. Another small part of her cast silencing and warding charms on her room without even thinking about it. Most of her however was a roiling mess of anger and sadness over the fight with her parents. She was mad at her mum for causing this morning's mess, mad at her father for being a stubborn arse over the whole thing, mad at herself for believing she could use magic again. She had saved their lives, she had apologized, she had given up her magic and friends for them for years…..

A small part of her was grimly satisfied that she had shocked her father with what could have happened to them, and yet another part of her felt guilty about that. Part of her was proud that she had stood up for herself, part distraught over the apparent cost. It was all a tangled mess. She flopped onto her bed and sobbed. Mum said it would get worse before it got better. Well, it certainly was worse. She couldn't see how it was going to get better. Then a stray thought crossed her brain, she had finally cooked a good breakfast and she didn't even get to eat any of it. She wished her brain would just shut it. It took an hour before she fell into a troubled sleep.

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Helen had called the number Ambassador Abbott had given her. Few people were in as it was a Sunday, and she wasn't given any other numbers to call straight away, but the staff had been very helpful. Apparently being Hermione Granger's mum meant something. Within an hour they had been in contact with the Ambassador and called her back. They had provided Major Thomas' home phone number and instructions from him to call at any time. She rang the number as soon as she disconnected from the Embassy.

"Thomas residence," a young female voice said. One of his daughters, perhaps.

"Oh, hello. This is Helen Granger, I was looking for Major Thomas?"

Helen could hear a muffled "Dad! Mrs. Granger's on the line!" through an obviously only partially covered phone. A few seconds later Major Thomas was on.

"Mrs. Granger?"

"Yes, thanks for letting me call you."

"Certainly, what can I do for you?"

"Well, we've had a bit of a row with Hermione this morning. I encouraged her to use her magic to make breakfast today, I felt it was time. Robert responded as expected, but things went downhill faster and farther than I had thought it would. She did that apparition thing right out of our kitchen. I assume she's back at Oxford, but if she is she's not answering her phone."

"Not surprising, I suppose. But what do you need from me?"

"Oh, right. Mostly we need someone to help sort this out. Someone who knows about the magical world, but understands the non-magical perspective. You seemed to understand our predicament, and I was hoping that you would know of someone like that somewhere in the military, or that the Ministry uses. They must be used to dealing with stuff like this?" The last was a hopeful question.

"Hmm. I do know a few people that might be able to help. Would you object to me coming out there today to talk a bit and see what exactly you need?"

"I'd appreciate that greatly. Hopefully Robert will too."

"How is he?"

"Out of sorts, and a bit hung-over."

"Ah, that I can deal with. There a pub you like in the area?"

"I'm not sure…"

"Trust me, I'm used to dealing with hung-over soldiers. Hair of the dog and all that."

"Well, there's Goffs Manor. It's nice, and usually quiet."

"Good. Give him some Cuprofen with lots of water and some coffee, and I'll be there in a couple hours.

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Hermione looked up from her book as the phone rang. It was eight, and her mum's message on the machine had said she would call back at this time. She stared at the phone as it rang. It had not been a good week. It was hard for her to concentrate in lecture and trying remember what she read was futile. Events from the weekend kept running around in circles in her head. She sighed. The only thing worse than dealing with her parents again was letting things go on as they were. She picked up the receiver.

"Hello?"

"Hello dear. Thanks for picking up. How are you doing? You made it there OK? No missing pieces or whatever?"

"I made it fine, mum. Other than that, things are terrible."

"I'm sorry, dear. I knew there would be a bit of an uproar at first, but I thought we could work through it. I didn't expect things to go so pear shaped."

"I know mum, and I'm sorry I got so angry. But dad comparing me to those, those, people, just tipped me over the edge and …."

"I know, dear, and it's okay. You were right to be angry."

"I'm— what?"

"You were right to be angry. You're nothing like the people you were fighting against, and nothing like the snobs in power either. We raised you better than that, and you have turned out wonderfully."

"But dad—"

"Your father has had a lot to process, and a lot to learn. I called Major Thomas Sunday after you left, and he took your father down to the pub for a while and they had a long talk. I think the fact that he's non-magical and a father helped. He sent another copy of that book by your friend and we're both nearly done reading it. I know we've covered the basics before, but I must say it pales in comparison to what's in there."

"I… I don't know what to say, mum."

"Well, you'll have to come up with something because we're coming up to visit this Saturday."

"What? Mum, this weekend is not a good time. I'm days behind in my reading and I need to catch up. I'm not up of another round of, of, whatever last weekend was."

"It'll be fine, Hermione. The worst is over with, I promise. Your father has some things to say, and a few things to ask, but it will be better."

"What about you, mum?"

"Me? I'll be spending an afternoon in that lovely library you have."

"You're sure about this, mum?"

"Yes, dear. Better now than let things fester any longer."

Hermione sighed. She really didn't want to do this so soon. She really was behind, and her ability to catch up was impaired. But studies were a short term thing, and family was important. And if things could actually get better…

"Alright, mum. What time?"

"Off peak price starts for the train arriving about 12:30. We'll walk over to St. Catherine's and meet you."

Hermione sighed again. "Alright, mum. I'll see you then."

"It'll be all right, Hermione. Honest."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Hermione looked at her watch. "Shit!" It was 12:40. Her parents were likely off the train already, and she wasn't ready.

By Thursday, she had been able to start concentrating again, and was digging her way out of the pile of reading and writing that had accumulated. Then Friday night had come, and she couldn't sleep at all, worrying about talking with her father again. She had crawled out of bed at six to read some more. At ten, she headed to the Bodleian to use some books that couldn't be loaned out. She hadn't eaten or showered, and was in rather grubby clothes. Between her fatigue, the fact that she was actually getting something done, and perhaps because deep down she really didn't want to meet with her parents, she had lost track of time and now was late.

Hermione put the reference books on the reshelving rack, scooped up the books that she needed to borrow and hurried to the loan desk. She headed to her dorm at something between a walk and a jog, shifting the stack of books in her arms back and forth. She arrived at Catz sweaty and out of breath. She hitched all the books into her left hip and tried to dig out her keys.

"Here, let me help."

Hermione jumped at her father's voice. She turned and he reached for the stack of books. "Um, thanks."

"Hello, dear," said her mum. She gave Hermione a tight hug. "You look a mess."

"Yes, well, I was catching up and …" She sighed. Off to a bad start already. Nothing to do but go forward. "C'mon in, then."

She led her parents to her room and dropped off her bag and the stack of books.

"Well, then, dear. You can show me to your library, then you and your father can have a nice chat."

"Right, then."

Helen happily disappeared into the stacks of the library. The Junior Common Room was predictably crowded and noisy as it was Saturday. The Senior Common room was more sedate, but small enough that even the few people there made it unsuitable for their conversation. Hermione headed outside and found a quiet spot overlooking the moat. She leaned on the short wall and watched the Koi mouthing the surface, hoping for some food. Occasionally someone would pass by, but it was relatively private. Her father leaned on the wall next to her.

He cleared his throat. "I need to apologize." Hermione raised her eyebrows, but otherwise didn't respond.

"More importantly, I should explain why I need to apologize." At that, Hermione turned to look at him, but still didn't say anything.

Her father sighed. "Bear with me. Like any parent, when you were born we, I, had hopes and dreams, assumptions and plans, for what life would be like. They were possibly vague and fluid, but they were there nonetheless. You would grow and be healthy, do reasonably well in school, have friends and be happy. Someday in the comfortably far off future you would find a nice man and eventually get married and have children."

"You were healthy, and did very well in school. You struggled with having friends, but eventually we were sure you would find your place and find people your age with similar intellect and interests."

"Then that McGonagall lady showed up, and the long, slow destruction of every hope, dream, assumption and plan we had for you began. Accepting that magic was real was difficult enough, but that you were a witch as well…. It was a lot to take in and adjust to. Sending you off to a boarding school wasn't easy, either. We had discussed it before, thinking we could find one where you could fit in better, but that was always for the future, when you were older. Now you were going off at eleven."

"It was a very hard decision. You would be away for most of the year, home only for the odd holiday. Worst of all was that we _weren__'__t allowed_ to come visit. Not that it was hard to visit, or there were only certain times we could visit, but we couldn't because we didn't have magic. We were the _wrong sort_. We were your parents, but somehow the magical world had more rights regarding you than we did."

"We discussed it a lot. Eventually we agreed. We hoped that you would fit in, find people like yourself. And what would we do with your magic if we didn't send you? Where does one find a magical tutor? How do you know if they're any good? At least they seemed to have a system in place to teach you. But it was a very difficult decision, and we weren't really happy with the choices that we had. But we adjusted."

"It only got more difficult from there. We missed you terribly, but your letters at first were so excited and enthusiastic that we were reassured that we made the right choice. It was hard to have you be so far away for so long, but you were happy and succeeding, so we reassured ourselves that it was for the best."

"But then there were hints and suggestions of things that were not so good. You mentioned a few times Draco Malfoy and what he was like. We hoped he was just a typical bully, but there seemed to be darker undertones. You started spending more and more time away from home on what little time you had away from school, again places we weren't allowed. You had good friends in Harry and Ron, but again there were the darker undertones surrounding Harry and your adventures. Having finished the Voldemort book, I now know how much you kept hidden from us."

Hermione started to protest, but he raised his hand to stop her. "I'm not here to get mad over old business. I can see why you did at the time. You likely didn't want to worry us, and all the adults around you treated it like it was no big deal, and I can admit that with magic some things are not as perilous as they might seem. Later on, you might have worried that we would have pulled you from there and that world. And you'd have been right, we would've had we known."

"Dad, I-"

"Could you blame us if we did? You were nearly killed by a twelve foot troll. All the magic in the world couldn't have healed you if it smashed you. Yes, they could un-petrify you with some potion, but you are one of the few people ever to have seen a basilisk and not be killed, and it was running around your school for nearly a thousand years. And they didn't even tell us you were petrified. We're your parents, and we weren't worth notifying. Tell me, what would you do if your child was nearly killed, repeatedly, at school?"

Hermione had nothing to say. Looking back, it seemed ludicrous how dangerous her time at Hogwarts had been, regardless of the magic. If she had a child, and such things had happened to them, she would pull them out in a heartbeat.

"Dad, I…" she said again, but nothing else came.

"Again, I'm not here to get mad over all that. You were young, and the adults in your life handled it the way they handled it, and you followed their lead. But I would suggest that they and you being magical has nothing to do with how poorly they handled it. Being magical does not justify being stuck two hundred years in the past. It does not justify thinking that, since it would take time and effort to explain things to us, and we might quite reasonably disagree even after things were explained, the best choice was just not to explain at all, and decide that we aren't worth the explanation."

Hermione could only nod her head. Magical society had treated her like a second rate citizen because her parents didn't have magic, and she had hated it. She had never thought about how her parents felt being treated even worse than that. Not so much directly, in the face treatment, but institutionally. Even Hermione had subconsciously done some of the same. Her parents wouldn't understand, so she just wouldn't tell them. What happened in the magical world stayed in the magical world.

"But then we get beyond the regular every day bigotry and danger and we enter into the industrial strength, warfare level bigotry and danger. Before, you were nearly killed accidentally, as collateral damage. Now you're on the front lines, and people are actively seeking to kill you, and eventually it's up to three kids to save the world because one old man engineered it that way. And engineered it very poorly, I might add. Really, this is the best they can do? They have a government, a police force, thousands of citizens, and you three are the only ones who can fix things? Even that big fight at Hogwarts with hundreds on each side killing each other was just a side show until the three of you could destroy those horcrux things and then kill the big bad guy yourselves."

"That brings us back to the whole memory spell issue. Yes I know you felt you had to save the world, and now I can see why you felt that you had to do that. And yes I recognize that we had no defense against the bad witches and wizards and leaving the country would be the safest option. And yes, had you told us at the time, we would have pulled you from the magical world and left the county if you had convinced us how dangerous it was to stay."

"Regardless, I can see why you made the decision you made. I still disagree with it, but I can see why you made it. It's just who you are. You couldn't stand by and let things like that happen, nor could you flee from it. But again, if you had a child, what would you do if they were in a similar situation? And more importantly, it smacked of that magic-user arrogance, like we weren't worth the discussion. Can you see that?"

Again, Hermione had no answer. Why her mum thought this was better…

"So, I had a long talk with Major Thomas, and it helped. It didn't solve everything, but it helped. I'm not so worried that you are a very gifted and powerful witch. If anything, I'm proud." Hermione looked up in surprise. He had a small smile on his face.

"Even if you were bottom of the barrel, you're magical and I'm not, and the advantage is yours. And you have in fact used magic on me, mind-altering magic, against my will, so of course I'm upset about that. And of course I'm angry at how the magical world treated you and attacked you. I'm your father, and I love you. It's my job to be mad at that."

Hermione felt a small band of tension snap inside of her at hearing that.

"But you are a gifted and powerful witch, and for that I'm thankful. It means you survived and we still have you around today. And us too, I suppose. Reading that book made me both more appalled and more impressed than before. You killed people?"

Hermione was surprised at the directness of the question. "I… I'm sure I must have. The spells I used at the end were certainly capable of being lethal. I didn't stay still long enough to ever know for sure, though."

"You okay with that?"

"I don't know. I never really thought about it much in the beginning. I had nightmares for a few years, but then they faded away. I've actually thought about it more lately. I got worried about what you thought about me about that."

"So, my first two apologies. I'm sorry you had to do what you did, but I'm glad you did it, because you're still with us. And I'm sorry we didn't get help for you sooner. We were just so mad at the whole thing we didn't think about it. Major Thomas says they have um, mind healers on the magical side and counselors on the non-magical side, and if you needed to talk with them they'd be happy to do so. 'The least they could do,' he said. But we do not think less of you because you had to do that."

Hermione felt a lump in her throat and her eyes stung. She hadn't known how important that was to her until now. A great weight was lifted from her mind.

"I also have to apologize for last weekend. I was still mad at you for the memory spell, but now I can see why you did it. Even if I couldn't, I suppose, as your mum said, it's time to forgive you. You are a good person, and demonstrate it every day. I'm sorry I made you think I thought otherwise. We forgive you, and love you."

Hermione had tears trickling down her face. She couldn't speak if she wanted to, and she didn't want to interrupt anyway.

"Lastly, I know you are an adult, and what you do with your life is up to you. As mad as I still was at you about the memory spell, it's nothing compared to how mad I was, and still am a bit, with the British magical world. The apology from Shacklebolt helped some, the conversation with Major Thomas more. Regardless, I have to trust you to make the right choice. I fell into the trap thinking that magic equals the way magical Britain does things. As your mum said, you are a magical being, and we can't take that out of you. But just because you're magical doesn't mean you'll end up like the bigots and incompetents you were fighting against. So I am really really sorry for casting you in the same vein as them, and telling you that you can't do something."

Hermione couldn't help herself. She burst into tears and gave her dad a huge hug. He returned it just as tightly. After a few minutes she found her voice.

"So I can use magic?"

"Yes, you can use magic. It's for you to decide."

"You don't think I'm evil."

"I really really don't think you're evil."

"And you'd let me work with the Ministry of Magic."

"It's not my place any more to let you or not."

"You'd approve, then?"

"At this point in time, no." Hermione looked up in surprise again.

"They're all politicians, and I don't trust politicians. And Shacklebolt is from the time before. I know he's 'one of the good guys,' but he's also one of the ones who let three teenagers carry the fight. And the fact that 'muggles' are not recognized amongst the missing and fallen shows that they still have a long way to come. They want something from you, and I don't trust them to be all honest and up front about it. But I'm starting to trust Major Thomas, and he's been reassuring. Most importantly, I trust you to sort things out for yourself. Again, magical Britain is not the be-all and end-all of being magical. Just because they want you doesn't mean you have to join them or do what they say. But it's up to you."

Hermione tightened her hug again. "Thanks, dad. Are we good again?"

He squeezed back again. "Never better."

They stayed like that for a minute or two, until Hermione's stomach let out a loud growl.

Her dad laughed. "Someone sounds hungry."

"Well, I didn't have breakfast…."

"Let's find your mum, and we'll treat. What would you like?"

"Indian. If we hurry we can get in to The Standard before they close."

"You can get ready that soon?"

"You'll see."


	8. Chapter 7: Quidditch

A/N. This is the first chapter of the story that I started, the rest got filled in before it. I had to make a few modifications as the story changed a bit, but it still worked. One more chapter to go, hopefully this weekend.

Thanks to all the reviews and follows.

As always, I own nothing. But still love the beach. Thanks, Ms. Rowling.

Chapter 7  
>Quidditch<p>

"Almost ready, Hermione?" her mum called up the stairs.

"Yes, mum, coming." Hermione slipped her second earring in and grabbed her purse. She went down the stairs to join her parents in the kitchen. Her mum was drying the last of the breakfast dishes and her dad was finishing his tea.

"Are you two ready for Quidditch?"

Her father just grunted.

"Dad, you promised."

"Alright, alright. I'm looking forward to the Quidditch. It's all the politicians and the fact that I'm in formal wear. Sports should be watched in comfortable clothes, holding a pint and enjoying creative language."

"You'll be fine, Bob. I know you tried to explain it, dear, but I think we'll just have to see it before it starts to make sense," said her mum.

"Well, our escort should be here soon, they did say ten o'clock."

"Tea while we're waiting, dear?" her mum asked, removing her apron.

"No thanks, mum, there's—" She was interrupted by three quiet pops as Kingsley and two Guards appeared on the back patio. "—not likely to be time. Shall we?"

"You know I don't like apparating."

"You can drive dear. You might make the end of the match."

"Funny. I didn't say I wasn't going to, I just said I didn't like it. It's like being shoved into a sausage casing."

Hermione laughed. "That's actually a good analogy. Sucked through a straw is the usual one. C'mon."

Kingsley again offered his arm to Helen. "Good morning, Granger family. Ready for some Quidditch?"

Helen nodded. Mr. Granger frowned, but eventually nodded as well. There was a series of pops and they all vanished. They all reappeared a second later on a balcony. Major Thomas, dressed in combat fatigues, was waiting for them.

"I do think I like the floo better," said Mrs. Granger, at the same time Mr. Granger asked "Do people really get used to that?"

Major Thomas laughed. "Eventually. I can't say that I enjoy it, though."

Hermione looked around. Guards ringed the balcony they were on and flanked the doors. One of them spoke into her wrist. "Tinker Bell arrived." Hermione wondered what that meant. The air around the balcony shimmered briefly. Wards, she thought to herself. Hermione looked over the railing and paled with a soft "eep." She stepped back from the rail. They were easily a hundred and fifty feet in the air, and the balcony was the only interruption in the long curving wall that disappeared in either direction. The wall curved up another fifty feet up, before starting to form the roof. A sea of colorful tents stretched out in all directions, tiny people swarming towards the stadium. Hermione frowned slightly, unpleasant memories floating to the front of her brain.

Kingsley noticed her frown. "Don't worry. Every Auror in England, Scotland and Ireland is on duty today, half of them here, and every country participating was required to send a security force as well. This is likely the most secure spot in the world right now. Shall we?" he asked, indicating the door leading inside.

Through the doors a quiet hallway with plush crimson carpet stretched left and right to a door guarded by a mixed Guard pair at each end. Ahead was a recessed double door, also with a mixed Guard pair on guard. Major Thomas led the way ahead and through the door. Inside was the most luxurious sports suite they could have imagined. The crimson carpet continued inside, across the wide entryway tier, and down the rest of the tiers to the glass wall. To the left a bartender mixed drinks behind a small but very well stocked bar, to the right a chef and server fussed over a delicious looking prime rib behind trays of bite-sized buffet food. It smelled wonderful. Fifty or so huge and very comfortable looking chairs filled the tiers, with fifteen or so on their own railed-off area in the middle. More Guards tried to stand discretely along the walls.

The view through the glass was impressive. Thousands and thousands of spectators were already in their seats, with more filing in every second. Their box was at the midpoint of one side, high enough to have a good overall view but not so high that they wouldn't be able to see the players well. A dozen elegantly dressed guests, holding small plates or drinks, inconspicuously watched them as they came in.

Mr. Granger walked down to the window and let out a low whistle. Major Thomas had followed. "How many seats?" Mr. Granger asked.

"A hundred and seventy five thousand. Sold out rather quickly, too."

"So Quidditch is a big deal, then."

"Think World Cup Football. Without the hooligans."

"Ah."

Mrs. Granger was running her hands over the top of one of the chairs, looking around. "Is this something you would get to do a lot?" she asked Hermione. Hermione looked at Kingsley.

"Well, the Cup is only every four years, but as Assistant Ambassador, yes, you would be coming to events like this here and abroad several times a year."

Mrs. Granger smiled at Hermione. "One could get used to this." Hermione smiled back.

The doors opened and the Prime Minister and Mr. Emerson came in, followed by Ambassador Abbott. Mr. Emerson went to talk to one of the security team, the others approached Hermione and her mum.

"Ah, Ms. Granger. And Mrs. Granger. So glad you could come!" The Prime Minister shook their hands, then waved to Mr. Granger, who was still down at the glass with Major Thomas. "So, what do you think?"

"Of this," Hermione asked, gesturing around the room, "or the ongoing proposal in general?"

He laughed. "Touché! Either."

"The room is marvelous, and I have tried to explain Quidditch to my parents. I don't know how successfully. Hopefully they'll be able to follow it."

If the Prime Minister was disappointed that she didn't comment on their efforts to recruit her, he didn't show it. "I've been informed that this will be a closely fought game, the odds are about even. Your parents should be able to pick up the basics, and the flying should be superb."

He turned to Mrs. Granger. "And how are you coping with all of this? I know we've thrown a lot at you in a short period of time."

Mrs. Granger glanced over at Mr. Granger before answering, which was not missed by the Prime Minister. "It has been a lot. Some of it quite unexpected. I had no idea my daughter had her own statue, for example." The Prime Minister chuckled at this. "And the Ministry was quite impressive. Everyone has been very friendly, and we enjoyed dinner with the Shacklebolts very much."

The Prime Minister smiled. "Excellent, excellent." He paused, and the smile faded a bit. "And Mr. Granger?"

This time Mrs. Granger looked at Hermione before replying. "Coming along," she said carefully.

"No rush, no rush," said the Prime Minister holding up a hand, as Mr. Emerson approached. "There's plenty of time. I just hope you enjoy the food, the drink, the company and the match." Her non-answer gave him all the detail he needed. "Now I must get my update from Mr. Emerson before the other guests arrive," and he excused himself.

Ambassador Abbott stepped up, smiling. "Hermione, Mrs. Granger, I'm so glad you could come today."

"Ambassador Abbott, it's nice to see you again."

"Indeed. I hope today is a bit more relaxing for you than your previous visit. There is one more governmental type that wants to meet you all today, but it really doesn't have much to do with the job offer. They were unavailable at our last meeting, but had already planned on being here today, so your presence is rather serendipitous. Other than that, we hope you can enjoy the amenities and the match."

"That sounds lovely," said Mrs. Granger. "Will you be able to watch the match as well?"

"Alas, events like this are opportunities for work, often more than actual meetings during business hours. There are several conversations I must have here and down in the Minister's booth today. I hope the match doesn't end too quickly, or I'll be weeks behind." He smiled to show that it wasn't too much of a burden. "For you, however, hopefully this will be a relaxing day. Enjoy yourselves."

Hermione and her mum stood chatting as other people trickled in slowly. Her father and Major Thomas were still down by the window. He father seemed comfortable with him, and no longer just because he was non magical. Hermione looked up at the doors just in time to see Mr. Weasley come in. He greeted the Prime Minister and Mr. Emerson, then headed over. "Hermione, Mrs. Granger, lovely to see you. So glad you could come! And I see Mr. Granger came as well," he said, waving.

"Hello, Mr. Weasley," said Hermione. "This is lovely. Though I don't see many people from the Ministry."

Mr. Weasley smiled. "They would all be down the hall at the Ministry boxes. Molly, Percy, Ginny and George are there as well. Ron just squeaked in as an assistant trainer with the English team, so he'll be down by the pitch."

"This isn't a Ministry box?" asked Hermione.

Mr. Weasley laughed a bit. "Well, I suppose it is, just not the Ministry you're thinking of. This is the nonmagical government's box. Kingsley, the Ambassador, and myself, and you of course, are guests today."

"So there are now nonmagical spectators at the Quidditch World Cup?" asked Hermione.

"Yes. Much to our embarrassment when we first came up with this idea we found that it isn't even original. Many other countries have members of the nonmagical government attend events, even attending magical government sessions."

"And we didn't know about this before?"

"Turns out we did. Officials have gone to World Cups and other government meetings elsewhere for years and heard nonmagical politicians speak. They just never thought it was a good idea, so never proposed that we do it."

Hermione just shook her head at the obtuseness of it all. Mr. Weasley laughed. "I agree, Hermione, I agree. Hence all this," he said, gesturing at the room in general and its guests. "We still have a long way to go, but I think we've done quite well so far."

"Well, we read the material you gave us. It seems you have come a long way. We did have some suggestions for you, if you don't mind?"

"Anything you have for us would be welcome. Well, I hope you enjoy the match. I'll be circulating around, meeting with folks. I'm sure we'll talk again."

"Thank you, Mr. Weasley."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

The room was about three quarters full, some people standing around with drinks and small plates of food, others having taken their seats already. Major Thomas was still talking with Mr. Granger by the window when he held up his hand, saying "Excuse me a moment," before pressing on his earbud. He lifted his left hand and spoke into his cuff. "Roger," followed by "Alpha team, Guns. Look lively, people. Victory One arrival imminent. Sticks, you have the call."

Around the room, security personnel took their hands down from their own earbuds. The magical Guards flicked wands out into their hands, the non-magicals brought small machine guns around from behind, cradling them in their arms, fingers resting on the trigger guard.

Mr. Granger raised his eyebrows at Major Thomas in question. Major Thomas smiled. "No worries. Our last guest is about to arrive, and we like to look sharp while the wards come down for a few minutes. I must go chat with the Prime Minister, then attend their arrival. You should join your family, our guest will want to meet you." He gestured for Mr. Granger to precede him up the stairs.

Mr. Granger joined his wife and daughter who had also caught the change in mood of the room. Waiters collected glasses and plates, and people stood and turned to watch the doors. Major Thomas and the Prime Minister had already left. Hermione felt herself getting tense. "Where'd Major Thomas go, dad?" she asked.

"He said our remaining guest is arriving, and went to see to the details. He also said something about the wards coming down for a few minutes." The last was a question.

"Kind of like shields. Keeps people from apparating or using portkeys to get in," Hermione said absently. She looked around, wondering who was left to come and would warrant an increase in security over and above what they started with. Minister of Magic, Ambassador Abbott, Prime Minister of England. Maybe some other nonmagical leader was coming. Bulgaria and Australia had been eliminated most recently, perhaps their President or Prime Minister were still in England. Or maybe someone from Brazil.

Her musings were cut short by the doors being held open by two Guards. A cluster of people came in from the balcony, Kingsley's head rising from the middle. The man in front stepped into the room and then to the side, before announcing "Ladies and Gentlemen, Her Majesty The Queen."

Hermione gulped in shock. The _Queen_? And there she was, suddenly visible as the cluster of people opened out into the room. Hermione froze. She was getting used to talking with governmental types, but this was something else entirely. Lessons from primary school flashed through her mind. Stand. She was already, good. Speak when spoken to. Shake hands, briefly, if a hand was presented, otherwise don't touch. Were her hands clean? She rubbed them together, then on her skirt. She didn't have her gloves on. Right, she didn't own gloves. Curtsy at first greeting. Oh dear, which foot in back? The right. Address her as Your Majesty, then as Ma'am. She glanced at her parents, they looked like she felt. She was sure the same thoughts were running through their heads.

There was a slow shift in the room as various people gravitated towards the entryway. Hermione was grateful as this left her in the back. The Queen and entourage were slowly making their way forward. Hermione tried to edge to the side of the room, but found she was trapped by the rail around the central seats. Her mum put a steadying hand on her shoulder. Hermione looked up.

"Breathe, Hermione," her mum said quietly. Hermione took a deep breath. "Better?"

"Better."

"Now you know how we feel." She had a slightly wicked smile on her face. "_You_ may be on a first name basis with the Minister of Magic and now the Prime Minister, but this has all been very new for us."

"Sorry, mum."

"I'm teasing, Hermione. As unpleasant as it all was, you did a great thing, a bunch of great things, actually. So it's not too surprising that they wanted you involved again." Hermione raised her eyebrows at this.

"They may have been terrible, but they were still great." Hermione felt a small shiver as she recalled an old memory of Harry telling her what Ollivander had said about his wand all those years ago.

Her mum's voice pulled her back to the present. "…they so often are. What I'm trying to say is that we are very proud of you."

Tears sprang to Hermione's eyes. She still wasn't used to her parents being positive of her magic or her past, and it meant so much to her.

Her mum pulled a handkerchief out of her pocket. "Now tidy up, your punishment and/or reward is nearly upon you," she said with another wicked smile.

Hermione tensed, sensing people behind her. She dabbed at her eyes and thrust the kerchief back to her mum and turned around just in time to see the Queen finishing her conversation with Ambassador Abbot and coming to face her directly. The Prime Minister stepped forward. "Your Majesty, may I present Miss Hermione Granger, and her parents, Dr. Robert Granger and Dr. Helen Granger."

Hermione managed a quick curtsy and shook the proffered hand with a soft "Your Majesty." To her surprise the Queen did not let go.

"It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Miss Granger. I have heard many good things about you."

"Thank you, Ma'am," Hermione managed to squeak out.

"I have a few things to discuss with you once my official duties here are completed."

"Yes, Ma'am."

The Queen glanced at the Prime Mister, who nodded at the implied command. "Good." The Queen smiled and withdrew her hand, moving on to her parents.

"Dr. Granger."

Her father bowed at the neck, and shook her hand. "Your Majesty."

"Dr. Granger."

Her mother bobbed with a small curtsy and shook her hand as well. "Your Majesty."

"You both must be very proud of your daughter. She has done remarkable things in the defense of Britain."

"Yes Ma'am," both her parents replied, her mother smiling.

"Very good. Well, I must see to a few more people before the match begins. We will speak again." And with that, she was off to circulate slowly about the room again.

Hermione took a deep breath and leaned back against the rail that had trapped her before. She caught her parents' eyes. "Whew," she said. "That was unexpected." She turned to the Prime Minister who had remained behind. "I was hoping for no more surprises," she said, frowning slightly.

The Prime Minister held up his hands. "I know, I know. But knowledge of the Queen's schedule is _really_ secret. Going to the Palace to see her is one thing, but when she travels details are just not discussed. But I assure you I have no more surprises for you."

Hermione frowned suspiciously at the slight emphasis on '_I._' "Alright, then."

"It's about time to take our seats. If you would…." He said, gesturing deeper into the central enclosed area.

"Here?" asked Mrs. Granger, pointing to the 'Reserved' signs.

"Yes, exactly. Hermione in the front if you please. Mr. and Mrs. Granger, in the second row, so you can hear the conversation." Mr. Emerson appeared to take the 'Reserved' signs and they took their seats. Others in the room were getting a drink or a small plate before finding their seats. Kingsley approached the center of the front window, The Queen off to the side. Guards on brooms converged outside the window, forming a large circle around the edges, wands drawn. At a signal from the staff, Kingsley waved his wand and the middle section of the window disappeared, and the floor and railing bowed outwards. Noise from the crowd poured in. Kingsley walked out and placed his wand at his throat, his image appearing on giant screens about the stadium.

"Witches and Wizards from around the world, on behalf of magical Britain, I welcome you to the 424th World Quidditch Cup!" The crowd roared and cheered. Kingsley waited for the noise to abate. "I congratulate the teams from England and Brazil on their wins so far, and look forward to a spectacular match today!" The crowd roared again. "To officially open the Cup Final, it is my honour to introduce Her Majesty, the Queen!" The crowd cheered again, and Hermione could see flags from Canada, Australia, New Zealand, Ireland and Scotland being waved enthusiastically. There were fewer from England, she noticed.

The Queen stepped forward to join Kingsley, and the noise level increased. Everyone in the room and throughout the stadium stood. The Queen waved, and it got even louder. Kingsley said something to the Queen that Hermione couldn't hear, and she nodded. He held his wand up, and she gently took the tip and placed it at her own throat. As she began, the crowd quieted.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, guests and athletes from around the world, it is with great pride that all the people of Britain welcome you to the 424th Quidditch World Cup Final. We are honoured to host this event once again, and greatly admire the spirit of athleticism and cooperation that make competitions such as this possible. I have great pleasure in declaring this match open."

The crowd cheered the loudest yet, and flags waved again, more from England this time. The Queen released Kingsley's wand and they stepped back into the room. The floor and railing retracted and the window reappeared, shutting off most of the noise, and Hermione could faintly hear the announcer starting to talk to the spectators. Most of the Guards on brooms swooped off, though one remained on each side of the window.

The Queen and Kingsley made their way up and around the rail and down to the front row of the reserved area, the entourage spreading around the room or finding seats in the upper rows. The Prime Minister moved to the left hand seats with Kingsley and the Ambassador, giving his seat beside Hermione to the Queen. Hermione gulped again, and hastened to sit as soon as the Queen had. Guards came to stand around their raised seating area.

The Queen turned to Kingsley and said "If you would be so kind?"

"Of course, Ma'am," and he raised his wand. The sounds from the stadium and the room were cut off.

The Queen turned to Hermione. "There, now we can speak in private. Very handy sometimes to have a wizard around. The last time there was an official court wizard was rumored to be six hundred years ago. I am tempted to resurrect the position. I must say that I have been waiting to make your acquaintance for a while now. Apparently the time was not right until recently." She smiled to reassure Hermione.

"You can imagine my surprise when I was briefed by Minister Kingsley, a little tardily I might add," she said, giving him a slight frown. Kingsley just smiled. "Of all the unpleasantness that had occurred in 1998. Soon after, I had the pleasure of meeting one Harry Potter. Nice lad, though he has a tendency not to say very much. Unless it's something about you." Hermione blushed. "Then I met a delightful young witch, a Miss Patil, after she had done her research to write her book. It would seem that I and Britain as a whole are greatly in your debt, Miss Granger. So on behalf of Britain and her subjects, We thank you."

Hermione fought the tightness in her throat, and managed a quiet "Thank you, Your Majesty."

"Yes, well. The next step has created quite a dilemma for us. Normally what would happen next is that you would be knighted, but even in this day and age women can't be simply knighted like our male subjects, so I would have to make you Dame Commander of the Most Excellent Order of the British Empire." Hermione's, and her parents', eyes were huge by this point. "Unfortunately, by convention, this is awarded on the advice of the government, and your actions are too secret even for the Official Secrets Act, and the government can't advise me of something only three of us know about. I cannot just change the rules of Knighthood for you, though I am sorely tempted to work for changing it for women in general, because people would want to know why, and again, we can't tell."

"Considering the magnitude of your achievements and sacrifices, my personal choice would be to award you Lady Companion of the Garter, as that can be done at my pleasure without the advice of government, but there are only twenty four Knights and Ladies Companion, and they meet yearly amidst great pomp and ceremony, and we still couldn't explain why you would be among them. The same problem exists for the George Cross and its nominating committee, though it seems to have been created for just this situation, and I have already created the Elizabeth Cross for other purposes."

"Fortunately for all involved," the Queen continued, forestalling any objections Hermione or her parents could raise, "and gender issues aside, we have had to work our way through this issue previously for Mr. Potter." Hermione smiled despite her shock. "Given that I _am_ the Queen, and newly more directly in charge of Magical Britain, I have created the Order of the Lily for service to the Crown and Britain by a magical citizen, male or female, co-equal with the Order of the Garter, and superseding the Order of Merlin. I am pleased to inform you, upon the advice of my magical government, mostly because I told them to, that your name has been submitted for consideration. It naturally comes with a knighthood, and is lettered, so you shall be 'Lady Companion' or 'Dame' Granger once you are installed.

Hermione was literally speechless. Her mouth opened and closed a couple of times, but nothing came out. Her parents weren't much better. The Queen observed Hermione's shell-shocked state with some amusement. "Don't worry, Miss Granger," she said, patting her briefly on the arm. "I am sure you will adjust to all this just fine. Your stipend will start as of today, but your investiture can be done at your convenience, as we will be setting precedence rather than upholding tradition. There are your family and studies to consider, after all. You can work with the Prime Minister and Minister Shacklebolt on the details. I believe he has some things to say to you about the Order of Merlin as well. And be sure that this has nothing to do with the job the Ministers two are trying not so subtly to get you to accept. You deserve this for what you have done for us, not for what you might do."

Hermione found her voice at last. "Are you…. I can't….. You don't…." The Queen raised an eyebrow. Hermione managed to gather herself enough to say "I mean, yes, Ma'am, thank you Ma'am. I would be honoured."

The Queen smiled at this. "Yes, yes you will." She smiled more at Hermione's blank look. "Sorry, a spot of chivalry humor."

Hermione blinked, then a laugh escaped before she could stop it, startled out of her dazed state. The Queen smiled again. "Yes, you will do fine. Now then," she said, waving a hand briefly, "I must visit with some more of our fine guests, then I do want to watch some of the match. It must be marvelous to fly like that. But we will speak again before I leave."

An aide appeared and helped the Queen up out of her seat. Hermione stood and curtsied again, "Your Majesty." Her parents stood and bowed/curtsied as well. The Queen and the Ministers, both smiling broadly at Hermione, headed out into the room again. Hermione fell back into her seat with a loud exhalation of air. She looked at her parents, her face pale. "That was _really _unexpected," she said in a quiet voice.

Her mother laughed. "That's an understatement. Dame Hermione. Who would have thought?" She turned to her husband, "Robert?"

He opened his mouth, then closed it again. Finally he said, "I'm with Hermione. That was definitely unexpected. But it's not like one refuses the Queen. It will take some getting used to, I'm sure."

Hermione was aware of someone approaching and looked up to see Major Thomas, a smile on his face as well. "Please," Hermione groaned, "no more surprises, from anyone."

Major Thomas laughed. "No, _Dame_ Hermione," he teased. "No more surprises. At least no more big ones. Just some details to work out and some rank and file staff to meet. For the next little while I am officially not in charge of security, so I came to borrow your father a bit to watch the match. And Ms. Shacklebolt was hoping to sit with your mother would for a bit," he said with a smile and slight bow to them. He turned back to Hermione. "Now that all the guests are here and the wards are back up, the magical chief of security would like to meet with you. He remembers you from your 'study group' at school and wants to say hello, if you don't mind."

Hermione had a small smile on her face. "That would be 'Sticks'?"

"Correct. He is out on the balcony if you would care to join him."

Hermione turned to her parents. "Mum, dad?"

Helen had a smile on her face as well, and spoke up first. "Off you go dear. I could use a drink after all this, and I'm sure your father could use a couple himself. And I want someone to explain this whole Quidditch thing now that I can see it in front of me. C'mon Bob," she said before he could argue, looping her arm through his and heading for the bar.

Hermione looked at Major Thomas. "The balcony?"

He nodded. "Where we arrived. He'll be expecting you."

Hermione tried to not hurry as she went up the stairs and out the door, not noticing Major Thomas speaking into his wrist again, or the doors being opened for her, but it was hard. Several years of pent up... something... pushed her along. By the time she was through the outer doors she was running, and skidded to a stop in the middle of the balcony, her head scanning left and right for a familiar face. Guards stood around the edges all looking at her due to her abrupt appearance, but she didn't recognize any of them. The door clicked shut behind her and she spun at the noise, and there he was, slowly walking towards her. She had run right by him in her haste.

He was taller than she remembered, and had filled out significantly with time and his training, she supposed. The hair was cut short, and the glasses were gone, but the eyes and the smile were the same. Her eyes blurred with tears, and her breath caught in her throat. Her pulse was pounding in her ears, accompanied by a loud roaring that blocked out any external noise. Harry stopped in front of her, and she had to look up to see his eyes. He tentatively touched her on her arm. "Hey, Hermione…"

Hermione promptly burst into tears and grabbed him a fierce hug. Harry hugged her back, awkwardly at first, then tighter. He looked up at the smiling Guards around him and cleared his throat. They grinned in response, but turned to survey the surrounding countryside in great detail, giving them some privacy. Harry just held her tight, rocking slightly back and forth.

For Hermione, the world had contracted to the arms around her back, the chest under her cheek. All the emotional upheaval of the past few weeks resurfaced at once, briefly overwhelming her. But now, the last piece that had been missing had clicked into place, and she felt more whole. Her parents were with her in the magical world, she could be working in both worlds, and now Harry was here. The turmoil started to settle. Things would be new and different, but better.

Harry held her for a few more minutes until she seemed to calm down a bit. 'Uh, Hermione?"

Hermione sniffed loudly. "What?"

"This isn't exactly how I thought this would go."

Hermione laughed softly. "I'm sorry Harry, it's just been very topsy-turvy lately."

"I can imagine."

She squeezed him tighter for a moment then loosened her grip. She looked up at him again and wiped her eyes, a small smile forming on her face. "I knew it was you. It's good to see you again."

"I'm glad you came," Harry said, tightening his arms briefly. He led her to the rail. They rested their arms on it and looked out, side by side.

Hermione found she didn't mind the height so much now.

"How'd you know it was me? Everyone promised not to say anything"

"Not sure, really. Watching the Guard demo, it just popped into my head. You moved the way Harry would move, did things Harry would do. Pattern recognition after seven years of knowing you, I guess."

"That's my Hermione," Harry said, smiling. He scanned the surroundings, the balcony, his Guards. "So how did your meeting with the Queen go?"

Hermione grimaced. "Oh, I'm sure she thinks me an addlepated fool. I could hardly string two words together sensibly." She gave him a mock glare. "How much of this did you know about beforehand?"

Harry just grinned at her. "All of it, of course. Head of magical security, remember?"

Hermione stared at him suspiciously. There seemed to be something more behind his words that he wasn't telling her. "How much of this was your idea? And not just today."

"Officially? None of it. But over the past few years, people kept asking me my opinion on things, for some inexplicable reason. I suggested that first borns should be treated better and the rules and laws discriminating against them be changed. I thought that the magical and non-magical worlds should work together on an official level. The Queen wanted someone more than just a Department Head to talk to, and came up with the idea of an Embassy. They asked me, among others, if I knew of anyone who would be interested or qualified to work there. Only person I could think of was you."

Hermione bumped her shoulder into his. "Prat." She smiled to take any sting out of it. "So are you saying you got me this job?"

"Oh heck no. You got it because you're brilliant and went into law and applied to the Court of Human Rights. You're just what they're looking for. Shack and Arthur knew you from before anyway. I just….. nudged things along if and when I could." He paused. "Of course, both of us being national heroes didn't hurt, either."

Hermione groaned. "Harry, what am I going to do about that? I never wanted that. The Queen wants to_ knight_ me, for heaven's sake….."

Harry just laughed at her. "You're asking me?"

Hermione suddenly remembered who she was talking to, and noticed for the first time the small pins on his left chest. "Oh."

"Right. Oh." He was still laughing at her.

She hit him on the shoulder. "Harry, be nice. It's been a long day already."

"Sorry."

"So, what are those?"

"On duty versions of the Order of Merlin, First Class," pointing to the lower one, "and Order of the Lily," indicating the upper one.

"Is that named after your mother?" she asked quietly.

"Yes. It was the Queen's idea, after she heard the whole story. I thought it fitting." He tapped it gently. "They originally wanted me to wear the full size ones on duty, but they're huge. So they made these. The big ones I have to wear to formal functions."

"They made these just because you wanted?"

"Defeat a 'dark lord' a few times and pull Britain's arse out of the fire, one of its own creation, you get a little leeway. As you are finding out." He grinned at her again.

Hermione groaned again. "Don't remind me. So what _am_ I going to do?"

Harry thought for a moment, looking over his Guards again. "Well, you did the first thing right already. You got the heck out of town for a few years. Would have been much easier for me if I could have. Got to the point the only magical places I could go were the Ministry and home without being mobbed. Spending a lot of time in the non-magical world helped, but I couldn't leave entirely. Things have died down a bit, but they will never be _normal_. Second thing you do, if you come back, is get a job like this." He waved his hand to indicate all the Guards around him. "Security comes as a perk of the job, and everyone is used to dealing with famous people already so you can have an actual conversation about something important or eat your lunch in peace if you want."

Hermione stared out at the colorful sea of tents, thinking. "I thought you were going to be an Auror."

Harry laughed. "So did I. Started the training. Then went to a crime scene with a senior Auror for the experience. A simple break-in in Diagon Alley. Got completely mobbed. They had to call in a dozen more Aurors to disperse the crowd. Nearly a hundred witches showed up at the Ministry over the next week wanting to give a 'witness statement' to me. It became quite obvious that I couldn't ever just do my job without causing a riot. Quit that day, spent the next week moping at home."

Hermione looked at him, one eyebrow raised. "And….?"

"Fortunately, Kingsley had already been to see the Queen a few times. I got an 'invitation' to talk with her. Apart from the thanks and the medals, she asked what I wanted to do with my life. At that point, I had no clue. She got rather, er, firm with me and before I knew it she had talked me into a security job. Similar skill set, but no interacting with the general magical public. She also got rather firm with Kingsley about my lack of, um, debriefing. Spent a lot of time with British military psychologists. Helped a lot."

Hermione was very pleased at the last bit. "So are you happy?"

"I am. I like my job, I like who I work with, I have my privacy. I work in both worlds comfortably. I'm doing something worthwhile. The government is actually functional and working for _all_ magical people."

Hermione had been watching his face intently while he spoke, then turned back to stare out over the landscape. "So you think I should take this job?" she asked quietly.

Harry leaned in until their arms and shoulders were touching. "I think you should do what makes you happy. You will do great things no matter where you go or what job you have. It's just who you are. I freely admit to being selfish and wanting you back in my life somehow, but that has nothing to do with the job. You're a witch, you can apparate anywhere anytime you want."

Hermione snorted. "I recently told my dad it wasn't an either/or. I seem to have forgotten that myself." She sighed. "This has been a difficult couple of weeks. Having magic thrust into my parents' faces again was stressful, to say the least. Then I was excited that they were coming around and I could be both a witch and their daughter again. But now that's wearing off. I just remember how awful everything was before. The government, the purebloods, the paper. I want to make a difference in the world. I just don't know if I _can_ make a difference in the magical world. I'm a firstborn, with no money to buy influence. I don't want to waste any more of my life on it."

Harry thought for a moment. "Be careful not to sell yourself short. You would be in the upper levels of government, and you're, well, you. You're brilliant, determined and powerful. And don't sell Kingsley or Arthur short, either. They have managed to take a wave of sentiment against Tom and the Deatheaters and make it a small tide against pureblood bigotry. They have made some remarkable changes. But they are purebloods themselves, born and raised in magical homes. It limits their world view. They need you to help them out. They'd endorse just about anything you came up with, but they need you to come up with it. Now's the perfect time for you to help keep the tide rising, people are starting to get used to changes occurring now, they kind of expect it. Add in your hero status….."

Hermione raised her eyebrows at this.

Harry chuckled. "Really. If you visited Diagon Alley with a hat on your head, it wouldn't be a month before every smartly dressed witch under the age of sixty had the same hat on their heads."

"Harry, don't tease."

"I'm serious. Listen, you remember Dumbledore's Army, right?" She nodded. "Well, there's another study group at Hogwarts now. It's not just for defense, it's for all classes. It was started by a few firstborn girls in Ravenclaw and grew to include nearly all the firstborn girls in the school. Now technically anyone is welcome, but it's still mostly firstborns and still all girls. Want to know what they call themselves?"

"I'm almost afraid to ask."

"Well, the official name is the 'Granger Study Group.' Unofficially, they're called the 'Granger Girls' or the 'G.G.'s'. Want to know what their motto is?" he asked, grinning.

"I really am afraid to ask."

"'Because _someone_ needs to do it right'."

Hermione groaned and dropped her head to her arms on the rail.

Harry laughed. "Don't worry, Hermione. Anyone who matters thinks it's awesome. McGonagall is tickled pink, and Flitwick loves them. They've blown the curve for OWLS the last couple of years and are expected to do the same for NEWTS this year, enough so that there's talk of raising the standards of the whole curriculum. They'd completely taken over "Muggle Studies" and the Governors eventually had to hire an actual first born to teach it, and it's now mandatory for all first years to take. At first they were also doing sessions on 'how to fit into the magical world,' but they soon decided they were just as much the magical world as anyone else and didn't need to 'fit in.' They've added basic math sessions on their own, and Arthur is pushing to make that official and to add English, non-magical history, and some of the sciences too. Enough so that people could get a few A levels after graduation. Says the ministry needs well educated people to hire."

Hermione rolled her head on her arms and looked up at him suspiciously. "How do you know so much about it?"

Harry laughed again. "Well, I happen to be their unofficial sponsor and a frequent guest speaker."

"I thought you didn't like the whole boy-who-lived-and-conquered fame thing."

"I don't. First borns, remember? They want me there because I'm good at defense and I went to school with _you_."

Hermione just shook her head. She didn't know what to say. Harry just laughed at her some more. "You should come to a meeting sometime. They would be thrilled to have you, and McGonagall would love to see you again, too."

Hermione stared out at the landscape again, a bemused look on her face. "Are things really that much better?"

Harry became serious again. "Yes, they are. It seems to have reached the tipping point. Modern is in, traditional is on its way out. There's the usual griping and moaning from some of the older families, and older witches and wizards, but their influence has truly been cut off at the base."

"What about the Prophet? How'd you get them on your side? They were beastly before."

"Ah, them."

"Harry…." Hermione said threateningly. "What'd you do?"

He looked sheepish. "Well, one day soon after you left, I lost my temper and said, quite loudly and in a very public place, that I wouldn't speak to their reporters ever again, or even consider using their rag as toilet paper, much less read it. I may have also said they were more harmful to the magical world than Tom ever was, or may have even been on his payroll. Their readership promptly crashed, as did their value. No one wanted to touch them. So I sort of bought 'em."

"You? You _bought_ them? You're the new owner of the Prophet?"

"Sirius left me a bunch of money, and it was just sitting there. I thought he'd approve."

Hermione just laughed. "Yes, I think he would. No wonder Kingsley thinks they're 'more friendly' to the Ministry."

"Hopefully more honest and less biased. If the Ministry screws up I expect them to report it, but with facts, not made-up, sensationalized innuendo."

"That's refreshing." She looked out at the sea of tents for a moment. "You really are happy?"

He smiled. "Yes, Hermione, I am. Took a while. Being happy about my life was such a new and different thing I didn't recognize it at first. But on the whole I am. Especially today."

She bumped his shoulder with her own. "Thanks." They stood in comfortable silence again. Hermione sighed. "So, now what?"

"Whatever you want. You still have to finish school, so you have lots of time to decide. You still need to work out the whole magic thing with your parents, I hear, though their presence here today seems to be a good sign."

"True. And if I wanted to get a hold of you, sometime...?"

Harry smiled again. He reached into a breast pocket. "I was hoping you would ask." He handed her a card.

"Look at you. Phone and email address. Post address is still the same."

"You have my post address memorized? I only sent you the one letter years ago."

"So, I have a good memory."

"So, memorize this then," and he conjured her another card. 'Harry Potter lives at Potter Manor.' It burst into flame moments after she read it.

She raised an eyebrow at him. "I finally got to see my parents' will. It's not like Shack's place by any means, but it is the family home."

"That's wonderful, Harry. And thank you. I'm glad you found some connection to your family. If it's under fidelius, who all can come visit?"

"Teddy. Andromeda. Shack and company. You."

"Not Ron or the other Weasleys?"

"That's under very slow negotiations. I stay in London at Sirius' some, so most people visit me there."

"Can I ask what happened?"

"Well, Ron didn't cope well with you not coming back, nor my explanations on why you might be away for a while. Ginny and I didn't work out, and Ron and Ginny and Molly didn't cope well with that. I get on with George, and Arthur, just fine, and they come to Grimmauld Place, but for now Potter Manor is for family."

"Thanks, Harry," she said again.

"You're welcome. And I do want you to come visit, someday, when you get the whole magic thing sorted."

"I will, Harry, I promise. Soon in fact. We just need to sort a few more things out as a family."

"I understand, Hermione. Family's important."

"Thanks Harry."

They stood in comfortable silence again, Harry sweeping the area again. An extra loud roar erupted from the stadium behind them.

"I should get back. I should see how my parents are doing, and the Queen said she wanted to talk with me again. Listen to me. My life is so weird right now."

Laughing, Harry hooked her arm with his and led her to the door. "You'll get used to it."

"How long did it take until you got used to it?"

"I'll let you know."

"Har-ry."

Harry stopped at the doors. "I'm still on duty. I have to stay out here."

Hermione grabbed him in another big hug. "Thanks, Harry."

"Do you think emailing me would be okay?"

"That I can do. And visit soon, I promise. Oddly enough, it's dealing with politicians, whether or not they are magical, that's the last sticking point."

Harry laughed. "That just proves your parents are smart, too." He gave one more squeeze. "It was good to see you again. I'll see you at your investiture, at least."

"Oi. My life is definitely weird."

"Just be yourself. It'll all work out. Ah, Hermione?"

"Hmm?"

"If you're going to go check on your parents, you'll have to let go."

She sighed. "I know, Harry. It's just been a long time since I saw you, and I don't know when I'll see you again. I have to stock up."

"It won't be as long, I promise. Just email me where and when."

"I will." Sighing again, Hermione relaxed her hug. Harry opened the door for her. "Thanks, Harry."

A Guard opened the door to the box for her. Most of the guests were in their seats, watching the match or talking quietly. A few were at the bar or serving table. Hermione got whatever was diet and clear from the bar. Her mum was sitting by Theresa chatting quietly, and her father was by Major Thomas, both talking animatedly and pointing at the pitch, obviously enjoying the match. Not wanting to interrupt and feeling a need for some quiet, Hermione picked a seat in the back of the reserved area and sat. She watched the match without really registering what was happening.

"Miss Granger?"

Hermione looked up. An aide to the Queen was standing politely beside her. "Yes?"

"The Queen was hoping to speak with you again. Is now a good time?"

"Of course, of course." She stood, wondering what to do with her glass. A waiter appeared, solving her problem. The aide led her down to the front row, where an aisle seat was open next to the Queen. She looked up, and Hermione bobbed another small curtsy. "Your Majesty."

"Ah, Miss Granger. Please be seated."

Hermione took her seat as instructed. The Queen was watching the match intently. Guards stood unobtrusively around them.

"Do you follow Quidditch, Miss Granger?"

"Uh, no Ma'am. I did attend the matches at school, but not since."

"Ah. Do you fly?"

"No, Ma'am. I never had a broom of my own, and I really don't like heights."

"Well. It looks exhilarating. Likely not something I would pick up at this age, I think. Though if Mr. Bush can go parachuting for his birthday, perhaps a broom ride is not too scandalous."

Hermione smiled at the thought of the Queen on a broom. "No, Ma'am. I'm sure it could be arranged if you wanted. A flying carpet might be more comfortable, though."

"Carpets fly, as well? I don't think I've seen a flying carpet."

"Something about import laws, I think, Ma'am."

"Well then. I think that will be a topic of discussion at the next meeting with the Ministers."

"Yes, Ma'am."

The Queen watched as England scored another goal. "Oh, well done." She looked over at Hermione. "My Ministers tell me that your parents are having a difficult time adjusting to the magical world again."

"Yes, Ma'am. They were rather upset by all that went on before, and thought that they had put it all behind them. I think the reintroduction was a bit unsettling."

"Understandable. I had a few words with the Ministers about how they approached matters. Have they and the Ambassador been able to reassure them?"

"I'm not sure, Ma'am. I think your conversation today will do more than anything else to show them that the magical world is not such a dangerous place anymore. Or at least something operating under a government they can understand. I just don't know if that will be enough."

The Queen looked at Hermione again. "What else would be needed?"

Hermione wrung her hands in her lap. "It's more of a family issue, Ma'am." She sighed. She felt obligated to tell the story. Better now than later and have the Order of Lily taken away. "You're aware that my parents were in Australia for the worst of the fighting?" The Queen nodded slowly. "They were there because I put a memory spell on them to make them go. It removed every reference of me and gave them new identities, so that no one would know that they were tied to me."

"Mr. Potter had mentioned something about that. As difficult as it was, it was for their safety."

"True. Unfortunately, I didn't discuss it with them beforehand, or ask their permission. I just did it."

"I see." The Queen looked thoughtful for a minute. "You were afraid they might say no."

Hermione nodded. "I couldn't risk it. Better mad at me and alive than dead. I couldn't protect them by myself if they stayed, and they had no defense against magic at all. I needed to know they were safe. But in doing that, I became what I was trying to protect them from."

"In a small way, perhaps. Truly a dilemma. You were right to worry. They are right to be upset. Tell me, what would you do differently?"

"Talk with them. Explain the situation. Let them choose."

"Even if they became just as angry about you going off to fight, or heaven forbid they were injured or killed?"

"Yes. It's their choice to make, not mine."

"Have you talked with them about this?"

"Endlessly at first. But not about the central issue, it seems. Aside from the memory issue, what I went through, the things I had to do…. We had that conversation just last weekend."

"Good. After this many years, I have acquired a great deal of faith in the power of reconciliation. At one time, Germany was intent on reducing our great country to rubble, now they are a strong ally. You are a remarkable young woman, and they had to have had some role in that. I think you will be able to repair the relationship with your parents."

"Thank you, Ma'am. I hope so. It now just seems to be the usual suspicion about governments in general, and they have two to deal with."

The Queen smiled. "That I can understand. I expect to see all of you at least once more, at your investiture."

Relieved, Hermione said, "Yes, Ma'am, thank you Ma'am."

"One last not insignificant detail. You were able to meet with my head of magical security?"

Hermione couldn't help the wide smile on her face. "Yes, Ma'am."

The Queen smiled in return. "Good. Very good, in fact. Well, as much as I would like to sit and watch the rest of the match with you, my aides are signaling that there are more people I need to talk with. Please do talk with the Minister soon about scheduling your award ceremony. My schedule tends to fill rather quickly."

Hermione stood and bobbed another curtsy. "Of course, Ma'am."

The Queen held out her hand again. "Miss Granger, it has been a delight."

"Thank you, Ma'am, it has."

Further A/N: While this chapter was written first, more than a year ago, it took the longest. Researching the British title/nobility/honor/peerage system is very difficult for someone not raised there, and I'm very sure I still have it all wrong. And I was very leery about using The Queen in a story. It seemed to me that it's on the list of things that just aren't done. Then I did find a few other stories that mentioned royalty, some even by name. I also found a whole fan fiction site devoted to the Princes, so felt a little better. Then robst put the Queen into his epic story, and I felt safe. Any errors are completely my fault and the result of cultural ignorance and lack of continued research, not intent. Any feedback from someone who actually understands how it works would be greatly appreciated.

The image of the Queen on the balcony taking the tip of Shacklebolt's wand and placing it at her own throat for the _sonorous_ to work was one of the four mental images that formed the core of this story. The level of trust she must have to point something, under the control of someone else, that is both microphone and cannon (_bombarda, reducto_, anyone?) at herself is huge, and said more than any paragraph or chapter of words I could come up with about the current level of cooperation and working relationship between the two governments, or at least the two of them. So at this point in time, in this story, things political are actually good.

The list of things that I do not own the rights to and must mention is now longer. Cuprofen (last chapter) is a trademarked brand of Ibuprofen, which I also don't own. Zari and The Standard were pulled off the web as good Indian restaurants in the appropriate locations. (I do love Indian, but have not eaten at either. Reviews would be welcome. I hope to be able to take my kids to Britain someday. I have not been since the eighties.) Harry Potter and the whole associated universe is still not mine. The use of 'The Queen' in this story, as far as I am able to tell, conforms with the conditions of use I found on the  .uk and other websites, and I very clearly do not make any money from writing and posting here, nor imply any endorsement from any actual royal person. Her opening remarks are modeled after several different ones I found the text to online, but are not directly quoted from any particular one.

Major Thomas is mine, though, and I kind of like him. If I can ever work it out to my satisfaction, I will add the conversation between him and Bob at the pub as an omake, but so far I still don't like what I have. I will let it percolate for a while.


	9. Chapter 8: Hermione and Her Girls

A/N: This is the last of the planned chapters. It too was one of the original mental images that prompted this story. There is a scene that didn't work out in the timeline that was an original image, but I had to take it out, I couldn't make it fit. I may add it as an omake, and if I can ever get Robert and Major Thomas' scene in the pub right I will add that too. Otherwise, off to other stories.

Thanks for all the follows and reviews, they have been very helpful and gratifying.

As always, I do not own the rights to anything Potter, and thank Ms. Rowling for allowing us to play with her creations.

Chapter 8  
>Hermione and Her Girls<p>

Hermione popped into existence before the gates of Hogwarts early on a Sunday afternoon. It was a rare sunny day in October, the air crisp but not too chilly. But it did allow her to keep her hood up and not seem too unusual. The letter in her pocket caused the locked gates to fade into smoke and allow her to pass through unhindered, returning to imposing solidity behind her. She started walking up the road to the school.

Students were out on the lawn, flying over the quidditch pitch, and sitting in the sun in the courtyard. This was the first time she had been back since the battle. It was odd to see things so…. normal. She was overwhelmed with memories, walking along the same paths, sitting on the same benches in the sun reading, standing in the same courtyard…. climbing over piles of rubble from the shattered walls, the sounds and flashes of spellfire everywhere, the smell of smoke and rock dust and blood and worse coating the inside of her nose and mouth. She felt the same despair and panic threaten to overwhelm her….

"Hermione." She started and whirled at the sound of her name. Harry gently held her by the arms, looking into her eyes. "You alright there?"

"Oh. Harry. Yes. It's just…."

"Strange, I know. You can hardly tell anything happened."

"That's it, I think. What my eyes see doesn't match what my brain tells me should be there."

"It'll go away eventually. Though don't be surprised if you get weird dreams tonight. Call me if you do."

"I'm sure I'll be fine."

"I'm sure you will be too. Call me anyway. Promise?"

"Harry—"

"Promise me."

"Alright, alright. I'll call if I'm up."

"Good. Now, off to the meeting." Harry held out his arm for her, and as she took it his wand appeared in his other hand, and he tapped her then himself on top of the head. She felt the familiar sensation of being disillusioned and faded from sight. "They took over a classroom on the third floor in the back. C'mon."

They headed through the entry hall and up the stairs, navigating their way to the third floor, avoiding the few people wandering the halls. A door was open at the end of the third floor hallway, spilling out light and the noise of many quiet voices. "Alright, keep quiet and stick with me."

The classroom was bigger than she thought it would be, and brightly lit from the sun streaming in through all the windows. Around the edges were alternating clusters of desks and chairs, sofas, or large pillows. About fifty students were talking, reading, or helping each other with their homework. Most were in comfortable non-magical styled clothes, very few were wearing robes. Harry worked their way stealthily through the groups of students to the back of the room.

"Got your wand?" he whispered.

"Yes. Why?" she whispered back.

"Okay, house rules. _Protego_ and _stupefy_ only. Ready?"

"What? Wait, no, Harry what—"

A red stunner flashed towards the back of a small girl standing with a few others in the middle of the room. One of her friends saw it coming and pushed her out of the way, getting hit with the spell instead and falling to the floor. Harry maneuvered Hermione to their left as pandemonium broke out. But soon Hermione noted there was far more organization to it than she expected. Shields popped up all over the room, right before stunners started pouring in to where they had just been standing. Tables were tipped over and the students took cover behind them, chairs and whatever else was available.

Harry's initial target promptly took charge. "Abbey, to the rear. Becky right. My group, left. Jenny, numbers. Team up, d&o." She _enervated_ the girl who had pushed her and got her to put up a shield as the other girls paired up, one holding a shield, the other firing around the sides, stunners and anti-disillusionment spells spread out over the entire room.

Hermione felt the wave of a _homenum revelio_ pass through her, and presumably Jenny called out "Two targets, back of the room." Harry kept pulling her to their left until they were up against the wall. She belatedly remembered the movement and command for _protego_ and quietly put one up. Hermione's shield was finally hit and deflected a stunner from Becky's group. "There!" someone shouted and dozens of stunners started bouncing off it.

"Keep your fire spread out, find me the other one! Abbey, join up," commanded the petite leader. Harry rapidly began throwing more stunners around the edge of Hermione's _protego_, picking off anyone not completely protected, ricocheting some shots off shields to get around or behind others.

"They're both in the corner. Overlap shields." About thirty girls were left, slowly forming a quarter circle around the corner Harry and Hermione were in. Hermione put more power into her shield until it was pressed up against each wall. Harry had to bend down and fire through the small gap between the shield, the wall, and the floor, hitting several more in the feet and ankles before they covered those gaps too. Stunners pounded her shield, and soon they were firing at the edges, looking for a weak spot. Harry eventually stopped firing and leaned back up against Hermione, laughing quietly. Hermione was glad someone found this funny, her heart was pounding and she was lucky she hadn't cast anything more powerful at first out of reflex. She reached out to find his head, giving him a good whack when she did.

"Hey!"

"Prat. You could have warned me."

"Sorry, I thought I did."

"Hey, Harry?"

"What?"

"Duck," she said as she whacked him on the back of the head again.

"Okay, okay, point taken."

"I will admit they are good, though, aren't they?"

"Told you."

"You're still a prat."

Finally the leader put up her hand. The spellfire stopped, but everyone kept behind the shields with wands up. She looked into the corner. "Draw?"

"Stay hidden for a bit," Harry said quietly, and faded into view, a big smile on his face. He slid his wand into his forearm sheath and Hermione silently let down her shield. "Draw."

Pandemonium erupted again, this time with cheering and jumping teenagers. Harry let this go on for a moment then cleared his throat, flicking his wand into his hand again. Silence spread rapidly through the room, a couple shields even popping up. Harry smiled at that, prompting some nervous laughter. "Alright, that's enough. Time for debrief."

His eyes searched the room. "Everyone awake yet?" Multiple _enervates_ were cast at the remaining downed girls. "Sarah. Front and center." The first girl stunned stepped up nervously. "My first shot hit you because you pushed Casey out of the way. Why?"

Sarah fidgeted a moment before quietly saying "She's my friend."

Harry snorted. "I don't care if she's your long lost twin sister. Did you see the shot coming and think, 'that might hit Casey and because she's my friend I'm going to push her out of the way and take one for the team?'"

"No, sir."

"Enough with the 'sir'. So why'd you do it?"

"Instinct I guess. I just did it."

"Excellent. Instinct. Good to know about it, hard to change it." He addressed the room at large. "Isn't it nice to know, ladies, that Sarah's admirably demonstrated first instinct is to put herself in harm's way for her friends? Says a lot about her, doesn't it?" Sarah blushed at the smiles and quiet praise sent her way.

"So." Sarah's eyes snapped back to Harry. "Does that make it a good idea?"

Sarah looked confused. "It was the right thing to do."

Harry smiled. "I happen to agree with you. But that's not what I asked. Abbey, front and center." Abbey worked her way to the front. "So was it a good idea?"

Abbey nodded, "This time, yes."

"Why 'this time'?"

"Casey's the leader. No offense, but if Sarah goes down, we're out one fighter. Casey goes down, we're without a leader and in the time it would take to have someone else take charge we're taking casualties."

"Excellent. If the situation was reversed, I'm sure Casey's instincts would make her do the same thing. What should she do instead?"

"Hide behind Sarah, levitate her body as a shield if needed until she could find better cover."

"Excellent." Harry looked around the room and saw angry or uncomfortable looks on faces. "Who here hates that idea?" Most of the room raised their hand, Harry included. "Excellent. Me too. Who here can rationally _disagree_ with that idea, tactically?" Hands went down. "Excellent. Which is one of the many reasons why fighting really, really sucks. You may have to do things you hate to make sure you can win."

"Becky, front and center." Becky took two steps forward. "Why were you able to get a draw today?"

"Fifty to one, or two, odds?" Most in the room laughed.

"True, but you were down to twenty or so at the end, and you've had those odds before and never come to a draw. What else?"

Becky thought, replaying the fight in her head. "Mobility. Normally you're all over the place and we can't pin you down. This room is smaller than the normal training room and was crowded. And whoever is still behind you there must not be as mobile."

"Excellent. Bonus points for the suppositions on my shielder. Casey, front and center."

The leader of the group stepped forward. She wore her own version of the school uniform, with Doc Martin boots, a black multi-layered gauzy skirt with an uneven hem that flowed and shifted around her legs, a white shirt tied at the waist and with sleeves rolled up, without a house tie. Skull earrings with crossed bones hanging down on a few links of chain were in each earlobe. She had strait black hair in a short pixie cut. To Hermione she looked like she was only a third year and tiny enough that a stiff breeze would carry her off. Then Hermione looked at her eyes and knew her first impression was dead wrong.

"Kudos for today. You took charge quickly, organized your teams, and changed tactics based on developing information. You maintained control of your group, and eventually formed a plan that had me cornered." Applause and cheers broke out around the room. Casey, however, stayed quiet and focused on Harry. He addressed the room at large. "So, two points. First, who can tell me the one and only reason why it worked and Becky's analysis is right, and this wasn't the stupidest thing I have ever seen?" Shocked silence replaced the cheers, and confusion and anger were on faces in equal amounts. "Anyone?"

No one spoke up. Harry glared at Casey, arms crossed across his chest. "As leader, you'd better have the answer."

Casey failed to wilt under his glare and smiled. "House rules."

Harry flung his hands up over his head. "Yes! Excellent! 100 points to the GGs. Now explain to the group before they all hex me."

"House rules. Shields and stunners only. Any other situation, any opponent other than Sir Potter, any other spells and coming out from cover with only _protego _shields as protection in a concentrated group would be suicidal. We'd all be dead."

"Excellent. House rules make for a very artificial and controlled environment. Out in the real world, totally different set of rules, including several that say somebody dies. Anyone _not_ understand that?" Heads shook around the room.

"Second point. Why was it only twenty to one, or two, odds at the end?"

Casey blanched, then hung her head. "I-"

"Anyone other than Casey?" Harry asked, interrupting.

Abbey and Becky obviously knew, and faces turned red or white around the room as others caught on.

"Well?"

Becky answered for the group. "We forgot the medic detail."

"Obviously, but _why_?"

No one answered.

"Casey?"

"It was my job, and I forgot," she said quietly.

"Yes, but again, _why_?"

"I was, I got so caught up in the fight, in winning, that I lost track of everything I was supposed to do."

"Excellent. Some would call it 'battle fever,' or 'tunnel vision,' or just the effects of adrenaline. For a large group encounter like this, you have to step back even further, have two people shield for you, keep your wand in its holster, delegate the fighting, assign people tasks, even have someone stand back with you to help keep track and tell you if you're about to do something stupid. That's the difference between tactics and strategy. Today was an example of excellent tactics, but poor overall strategy."

"My two little points aside, excellent work today. You followed orders and supported each other. Even if you were stunned, you helped. And given the constraints of the exercise, you got a draw. Consider DADA revising done for today. Homework, one page single spaced on what you learned today. Tactics, strategy, instincts, something about yourself, whatever. Send it through the usual channels. I should be back a month from now." Students spread out through the room, righting desks and cleaning up.

Harry walked up to Casey and asked quietly, "When did you understand?"

"The first spell was a stunner. We only use stunners unless you say different. The spells stayed stunner. I figured they'd keep on that way, since I knew you were coming today."

"A guess."

"A well informed guess."

"A gamble."

"A calculated risk," Casey said, stubbornly.

Harry relented. "I bow before your tactical genius," he said, bowing deeply with a theatric sweep of his arm.

"Git. Sir," she added before his frown could develop fully. He grinned instead. "But not strategic."

"Could've been the right strategy. Sometimes you have to accept losses to win."

"But it wasn't a strategy. It was just how it turned out."

"Another fifty points for the GGs. Lesson learned?"

"Lesson learned. Thanks for the draw. It's good for morale."

Harry raised an eyebrow.

"I'm pretty sure no one here could have broken through the shield protecting you, and I'm also pretty sure you could have broken through any of our shields any time you wanted."

"Well, this is a study group, not the Academy. Not everyone wants to be an Auror, you know. And it's hard to learn if you're always unconscious five seconds in."

Casey smiled. "True. So, you gonna introduce your guest or what?"

"Ah yes. My other surprise." He beckoned the still disillusioned Hermione forward. "Ladies, may I have your attention please." Those that hadn't been waiting around Casey and Harry a polite distance away gathered in. "I promised you a special guest and today is the day. May I present to you my good friend... Dame Hermione Granger."

Gasps followed by cheers and applause spread around the room as she appeared before them. Casey's voice rose above the noise. "Ladies, as we planned!" Instantly it was silent. Everyone stood strait then dipped in a deep curtsy, regardless of attire. "Dame Granger," said Casey formally, "we are honoured by your visit." They stood as one and remained quiet.

"Hermione, may I introduce Kirstin Cooper, seventh year Ravenclaw, founder of the Granger Study Group. KC for short." Hermione shifted the spelling in her mind. "And these are the Granger Girls. Best students in Hogwarts."

Hermione blushed from all the attention. She cleared her throat. "Oh my. Well. I don't know what to say. It's a pleasure to meet all of you. Harry has told me a little about your group, and I must say that I am pleased with your work."

She focused on KC and held out her hand. "KC, I'm honoured to meet you. Please, call me Hermione."

KC bobbed another curtsy before taking her hand. "Oh, no, Dame Granger. You earned that, and earned it the hard way. We take great stock in things that are earned." Heads nodded around the room.

Hermione smiled. "Well then, you and your friends battled Harry and I to a standstill. I think in this room at least you have earned the right to call me Hermione."

KC grinned. "Nicely played. It's a deal. So, Hermione, may I introduce you to our group?" She waved some people over. "These are the cofounders, Abbey Taylor, seventh year and Gryffindor leader, and Becky Williams, also seventh year and Hufflepuff leader. They each bobbed a curtsey. "Oi! Where's Riley? And this is Riley Brown, third year and Slytherin leader."

Hermione's eyebrows went up at this. "That's unexpected."

"Ma'am?"

"Well, either you're a firstborn in Slytherin House, or not a firstborn hanging out with the riffraff as it were."

"First born, ma'am. Just one that wants to be the best."

"Well. Quite a change from when I was here. I'd be worried about what your housemates might get up to while you were sleeping."

Riley laughed. "Oh, they tried. A couple times, in the beginning."

"And?"

"They failed miserably and lost points for 'acting like typical Gryffindor buffoons,' and we went on strike from earning points for Slytherin. Becky and the Hufflepuffs have an in with the elves so suddenly there was a shortage of bog rolls, hot water, soap and the like. For some, anyway. And the boys kept getting in trouble for stealing all of certain girls' knickers, I mean how else would they end up in the boy's dorms leaving them nothing to wear?" Her innocent look would have fooled anyone. "And that's before they got out into the halls amongst the rest of the GGs."

By now Hermione was grinning. "How long did it take?"

"Less than a week. Been quiet since, especially since each of us are back to earning more than twice the house average in points. Now we're 'valuable assets.'"

"Amazing how sometimes 'cunning' is just acquiescing to overwhelming evidence, isn't it?"

Riley laughed. "Yes, ma'am. More often than you'd think."

"Hermione?" KC broke in.

"Yes?"

"I hope you don't mind we're using your name for our group. We would've asked, but...,"

"Well, let's see. You study hard, get good grades, have members from all houses, watch out for each other, don't put up with crap from bigots, and have done more to advance first- and second-born status in the last six years than all the rest of magicals in the last two hundred. That about right?"

"Uh, yes, ma'am, I suppose so."

"You have a charter?"

"Yes, ma'am. It's not much, but school rules require one for all organized groups. Hey, Frankie! Bring the charter over. This is Francine Wilson, sixth year Ravenclaw, and she wrote the charter for us so we could become 'official.' She wants to go into law, so was hoping to talk with you later."

"I'd love to talk for a while, Francine." Hermione read through the charter. "Very nice. Concise, thorough, organized, easy to read."

"Thank you, ma'am."

"But you left out something."

"I did? But no one's mentioned anything..."

"You have no provision for honorary members."

KC's eyes went wide while Francine looked confused. "Honorary members? Why do we need honorary members?" She looked at KC, who just tipped her head at Hermione.

"Just the one for now, I think."

"Oh my gosh! I'm sorry ma'am, I should have thought of that sooner. Who's got a pen?"

Francine hastily penned in a new paragraph, Hermione looking over her shoulder. "You might want to say 'former student' for now, not 'graduate'. I never did graduate."

"Really, ma'am?"

"Really. Maybe in a couple years I'll have time to work on my NEWTS. Think you guys could tutor me?"

"Of course, ma'am. Is it alright if I make it a unanimous instead of majority vote? Makes things easier for today, harder for anyone else."

"It's your charter."

Francine wrote a couple more sentences, and handed the parchment to KC. KC scanned the new paragraph, then addressed the room. "Alright listen up. We need a brief formal meeting for some official business. Abbey, I assume we have a quorum?"

Abbey pulled out a roll of parchment and tapped it with her wand. "Everyone's here. We knew Sir Potter was coming today."

"Becky, take notes." A dicta quill was already hovering over another large scroll.

"I call this special session to order. One piece of new business. We have a proposed change to our charter." She read the new paragraph to the group. "Any discussion? No? Motion to approve? Thank you. Second? Thank you. All in favor? Any opposing? As it's unanimous, a second reading and vote is not necessary. Motion carries. Well, that was easy. Thank you." She smiled innocently. "Might anyone perhaps have some other new business before we adjourn?"

Francine raised her hand. "I would like to nominate our special guest, Dame Granger, as an honorary member of the Granger Study Group."

"We have a motion before the group. Second? Thank you. Any discussion? Alright then, all in favor? Opposed? As we have a unanimous vote for acceptance, the motion carries." She turned to Hermione. "Dame Granger, the Granger Study Group has voted to offer you an honorary membership. Do you accept?"

"Miss Cooper, I would be honoured." Cheers and applause broke out around the room. "Well then, I suppose if I were to sign your charter as an honorary member, there would be no question of whether I approved of the name or not, would there?"

"No, ma'am, thank you ma'am!"

Hermione signed the bottom of the charter with a flourish amidst more applause. Harry sat unobtrusively on a desk along the wall, watching her chat animatedly with the GGs. She seemed happy, and he was happy for her.

Hermione Granger was back.


End file.
